


Mr & Mrs Baxter

by irishgirl321



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action & Romance, Clint Barton X Reader - Freeform, Clint Barton's Partner, Eventual Sex, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fluff, Hawkeye - Freeform, Hawkeye X Reader - Freeform, Partnership, Possible Eventual Smut, Reader-Insert, Romance, SHIELD, Sexual Tension, Some Humor, Spies & Secret Agents, Undercover as Married, Violence, curse words, marvel AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-10 20:40:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2039370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishgirl321/pseuds/irishgirl321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being Hawkeye's new partner would have been great if you weren't constantly battling a near-overwhelming crush on him. Things can only get more awkward for you when you're sent on an undercover mission together with the aim of infiltrating an organisation of elite and wealthy criminals.<br/>To do this, you must take up the guise of 'the Baxters': A head-over-heels-in-love newlywed couple, who move in across the street from the the suspected criminal leaders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Who's the damsel in distress now?"

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Clint Barton. If I did I would have given him more screen-time in the Avengers.
> 
> **NOTE & AoU SPOILER: I started writing this before Age of Ultron came out, so there had been no mention of Clint having a family. For the purpose of this, Clint is single with no family. Our Reader is not a home-wrecker.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really shouldn't be starting this... Basically, I have a bunch of other stories to finish, but I'm feeling rather sad and the idea of writing this fic cheers me up. Yes, I have other fics, and I love them all, but this... This is my favoured child. This fic is my pride and joy. I've had the idea for a few months now, and can't believe that I've delayed so long before getting cracking at it.
> 
> You see, I've scoured the internet, and while I may have found many Clint X reader oneshots, and a few excellent multi-chaptered Clint X Reader fics (all unfinished, much to my despair), I'm not satisfied with it. Not because these fics are not good, but there's just barely any AND I NEED MORE. So I've decided that my favourite Marvel boy (alongside Bucky Barnes) deserves that I write him his own fic. Which I am now attempting to do. 
> 
> I dunno how big the Clint fan-base is (Let's face it, Jeremy Renner was right: The character got MAJORLY screwed over in Avengers Assemble because he was brainwashed for most of it, and so fan-girls didn't fall inlove with him as they should have), but hopefully you guys exist (please don't tell me I'm alone) and hopefully you'll enjoy this fic? 
> 
> It's a reader insert, which means you are part of the story and your name will be represented by '______.' All you really need to know at the start is that you're a SHIELD agent who specialises in close quarters combat and knife-throwing, though you're fairly decent with a gun as well. The story is set after the Avengers, and before Captain America: The Winter Soldier.
> 
> I kind of write Clint how I see him, seeing as his character's personality wasn't really revealed to us all in 'Avengers Assemble.' I'm also trying to add a little bit of his comic personality into it, but that'll just be bits and pieces.
> 
> One more thing, whenever I type 'Clint' it keeps leaving out the 'n,' which is rather awkward. I've proofread this, but there's always the chance that I've made that mistake again. Feel free to laugh at it if you come across it, but please let me know if it's there.
> 
> So yeah, hope you enjoy :) It'll take a few chapters to get started, but then away we goooooo...

The world blurred around you, snow flying into your visor. The freezing air whipped past, blurs of green trees and grey boulders on a white landscape. You were glad for the padded jumpsuit that you were wearing; Your unprotected fingertips were already tingling with cold, and you didn't even want to think about how you'd be fairing if you could feel the temperature through your entire body. Not that you could even think about that now. All you could focus on was the pounding of your heart on your ears, the adrenaline pumping rapidly through your veins, the whirr of the snowmobile's engine underneath you.

And of course the bullets whizzing through the air all around you.

Hunching down over the wheel, you turned it rapidly, zig-zagging wildly to throw your pursers' sight off you. It didn't work as there were at least seven of them with their attention focused solely on you, and all of their vehicle's equipped with weaponry that yours didn't have. Instead of a gun at the front of your snowmobile, and silver briefcase sat in a metal basket, jostling around but thankfully not sliding off. Looking down at it, you raised one hesitant hand upwards and pressed the headset into your ear, securing it in position.

"Barton, where are you?!" You snapped, swerving to avoid a tree as you headed into the forest. "I have seven of these assholes on my tail trying to shoot me down! I have the case! A little help would be nice?!"

There was a burst of static in reply, and then grunting filled your ears, along with the sound of fists-on-flesh.

"I'm a bit... Busy here," Clint snapped, and you heard a cry of pain over the line.

_Oh for fuck's sake..._

Cursing to yourself, you revved the engine, and tore ahead even faster, distancing yourself from those chasing you. A bullet slammed into a tree branch just above you, and it dropped suddenly, leaves just scratching against the top of your head. Ducking, you raised one hand to swat it away before it could collapse on top of you completely and knock you off. That movement almost caused you to lose control of the snowmobile. It swerved, and your world lurched sickeningly. Quickly, your hand fell back to the wheel, and you yanked it, righting yourself.

A bullet grazed the curve of your neck, stinging sharply, causing you to let out a whimper of fear.

"Clint!" You semi-shrieked, steering wildly.

_"Busy!"_

The watch tower where he was positioned pulled into view as you exited the forest, sticking out above the large metal fence that ran along the length of the huge compound. On the top of it you could see the black-clad figure of Clint trying to fend off a large group of enemy agents who were swarming the small platform and trying to overwhelm him. One man moved forward, but Clint knocked him back with a savage kick to the stomach. The man fell back into his group of friends, and you saw your partner use his split second of being free from attacks to rip free his bow, spin away, and let loose an arrow. Someone screamed, and you could see a current of electricity surge from the targeted person to those standing around him, killing them all instantly.

He had apparently used one of his shock arrows.

There was a loud _'thud'_ , and then another... And another... As the bodies began to fall from the platform.

Just then your snowmobile hit off a tree stump, flying up into the air. You tried to hang on, but as you were unprepared, it did no use. Your body was ripped from the vehicle, and you were thrown forward several metres from where it landed, rolling over and over until you hit a rock and came to a painful stop. There was a warmth soaking your side from where it had smashed into the hard granite, and you glanced down to see a dark stain that you knew to be blood soaking through your jumpsuit. Cursing, you dragged your arms underneath your body and pushed yourself unsteadily to your feet, staggering slightly as you righted yourself. Your wound flared with pain, and you hissed through gritted teeth, hand clamping down on the injury. 

You couldn't limp back to your fallen snowmobile before the enemy were around you, circling you like sharks, and leaving you with nowhere to run. Reaching down you tore your gun from your utility belt. Your head whipped frantically from side to side as you tried to keep an eye on all of them in-case one decided to take a shot at you. That was when your eyes narrowed in on the briefcase resting beside your over-turned vehicle.

_You needed to get to that._

The masked men around you seemed to stop as one, and simultaneously raised their guns to point towards you. Your blood ran cold as you realised that you had no way out.

_This was it._

_This was the end._

Something slammed into the ground just behind one side of the circle of men, embedding itself within the frozen soil. All attention, including yours, was immediately drawn to the long silver object. It was an arrow, flashing and beeping rapidly, with a tiny picture of a mushroom cloud at the end that was sticking up into the air.

_Explosion arrow._

_Oh. Shit._

You ran forward, pelting away from it as the beeping became one long drone. Their attention no longer on you, you managed to snatch the brief case off the ground and rush forward. You jumped, one foot landing on the bonnet of an enemy snow mobile. You vaulted into the air, leaping out of the circle of men. 

The arrow exploded, far away enough so that you weren't burnt, but close enough to throw you forward. You tumbled to the ground, but managed to right yourself a moment later. The screams of the men who had been caught in the blast reached your ears, but you steeled yourself and raised your gun at the remaining men in-front. Before you could take a shot, another arrow slammed into one of the men, killing him instantaneously. They twisted wildly to see where the new attack was coming from, and you fired off one more round as Clint took out the last man.

His voice came to life over your headset. "Sorry for the delay, partner, but I'm glad to see you're still the same old damsel in distress."

"I wouldn't have to be if you hadn't missed the rendezvous point," you snapped back as you hurried back to retrieve the silver case from where it lay on the ground.

"I kind of got attacked?" He said it like a question, though you knew that it wasn't.

"No excuses," You teased slightly, "Now, open that goddamn gate."

"Yes ma'am," he replied, and you heard the groan of the two huge doors swinging open behind you.

Rather than wasting time trying to right your snowmobile, you just ran back to one of the ones that hadn't been destroyed in the explosion. Dragging the body of it's rider off the seat, you plonked yourself down in his place, trying to ignore the flare of agony in your side. Switching on the engine, you kept both hands on the wheel, the briefcase wedged awkwardly underneath the gun that was secured to the top of the vehicle. Up ahead, you could see Clint shimmying down the ladder that ran down the length of the watchtower.

"One more thing," he added as you drove towards him. "I might need you to give me a lift out of here. Or at least bring me back so I can take one of the snowmobiles from one of the dead guys."

"Charming," you scoffed, "But may I ask why?"

Your eyes intent on him as he jumped down the remaining rungs and landed on the ground in a half crouch, snow flying away at the impact of his boots on the ground.

"Because," he said as you pulled up next to him, "when they came up the ladder after me they took the liberty of destroying my ride."

He gestured to the battered remains of some wrangled metal nearby as you tugged your visor over your head to grin at him. The cold air bit pinched your skin, but you just ignored it.

"Hmmm," you grinned, leaning back and tapping your fingers on your chin. "Look at that. Clint Barton needs a _favour_. Who's the damsel in distress now?" 

Clint sighed, and ran a tired hand through his slightly spiky brown hair. His gorgeous blue eyes looked at you in heavy exasperation.

"Seriously? We just fought our way out of a high security compound and you're going to make me _beg_ to get out of here?"

"You're gonna beg. Like a _dog,_ " you used your best gangster voice and arched a stern brow at him. 

He let out a low groan of frustration, and started to drop down onto his knees. You smiled in victory as he opened his mouth to speak, but then a siren cut you off.

"Shit," you said as the shouts of more men rang out of the forest.

You both stared back in horror as more men poured from the trees, speeding towards you determinedly. It looked like the rest of the agents in the compound had at last decided to get their act together and come after you.

"Get on!" You snapped at Clint, grabbing his hand to yank him to his feet. 

You passed him back the briefcase for safe-keeping, and started the engine all over again, aware of how one of Clint's strong arms wrapping around your waist to hold himself in place. A smell that was purely his, his cologne mixed with the light sweat that he had worked up from fighting washed over you, comforting you and giving you the strength you needed to steel yourself and speed away. You flew through the huge gates, and down the slope outside.

"Where's your gun?" Clint asked, his breath hot against your ear.

"Right hand side" You replied, and a second later you felt his hand ghost across your hip, searching until he found what he was looking for.

You felt a slight release of pressure as he pulled your gun free, and clicked the safety off. Twisting around, he fired a few rounds back at the vehicles chasing you. You just squared your shoulders and continued to keep your eyes trained on the ever-changing landscape ahead of you.

"Got 'em!" Clint hooted loudly as the sound of yet another explosion rang through the air.

You only grunted in reply, and spun the wheel to avoid another tree. After minutes of careful and precise driving on your part, and Clint trying his best to hold your attackers at bay, you slowly drew ahead. Using this to your advantage, you turned the vehicle into the trees, twisting and turning so that it was almost impossible for them to follow you once you entered the forest. Snow had begun to fall quickly from the sky, covering your tracks, and you felt the cold wind whip past your face to deepen the red flush upon your cheeks. 

As quietly as you could, you decreased the speed of your vehicle, and flew swiftly through the forest towards a cave that you had found at the base of the mountainside when you had first scouted the area upon arrival. From the outside it just appeared to be a giant boulder overgrown with moss, but the moss was what coated the cave so that it was invisible to the naked eye. Inside it was large enough for the snowmobile to turn itself around completely. When you were firmly in, you killed the engine and both waited in silence.

You could hear the yells of the enemy agents as they tore through the forest, searching desperately for you, your partner, and the case containing the nuclear missile plans that you'd stolen from the heart of their headquarters. However, it was all in vain as your tracks were covered, and as the engine was cut they could not hear you. Slowly, their cries began to fade away into the distance.

Cold began to creep into your body as you waited while their calls to one another grew more and more distant. Soon, you realised that you were shivering slightly, your entire body trembling due to the cold.

Clint must have felt it, because next second you felt his large, gloved hands rubbing up and down your arms, trying to heat you up. You turned your head to look over your shoulder at him. His face was concerned, eyes intent on yours. You smiled reassuringly at him, then nodded to the outside of the cave.

"I think it's okay to go now," you breathed, tilting your head.

No noise from outside reached your ears, so you switched the engine back on. After a few more seconds you pulled out of the cave and threaded your way back through the darkening forest.

"There's going to be a blizzard," Clint told you, remarkably calm for someone who was just after taking part in a high-speed chase.

But then again, he had helped stop an alien army from invading Earth, so he'd definitely faced worse situations.

"Then we need to hurry up and get back to the Quinjet," you remarked, shifting away from him slightly.

The terrain was so bumpy that you were constantly being jolted into him every few seconds, his most intimate part pressing against your rear (though not by either of your choices). You knew it shouldn't be so distracting. You should be more professional.

But you just couldn't help but notice things like this.

Clint called your name softly, drawing your attention back to him once more.

"What?" You said, trying not to blush.

"You need to adjust your course slightly westwards," he held the arm that was holding the briefcase out so that you could see the survival watch resting on his wrist. "Or we'll end up heading past where we want to go."

"Oh, okay," you replied, and did what he asked.

"That's my girl," he encouraged as you set the vehicle back on track.

_God._

_He really had no idea the effect his words had on you._

You wondered if things like that had ever gotten to Agent Romanoff. If she'd ever looked at her handsome partner and thought; 'What if?' 

Maybe she had, actually. Maybe that was the reason that she was reassigned to work with Captain Rogers. Had she and Clint been forced to stop working together due to them having an (in the eyes of the Board) inappropriate relationship with each-other? As far as you knew, partners were not allowed to be romantically involved, as your superiors believed that it may compromise their ability to do their missions. 

But Clint was exactly the kind of person to ignore rules and regulations when it suited him, he was always one to make his own call in the end. What if his 'call' had been to become attached to her? She was beautiful, after all, and the two of them were well known to be close. Heck, you'd even seen her walking around with a silver arrow necklace on! 

It wasn't like you could ask Clint. Yes, you two were friends, and partners. but you just wouldn't be comfortable with it. Not to mention that you weren't entirely sure that you wanted to hear the answer.

Because ever since you'd first seen him walking down the brightly lit halls in his SHIELD-issued kevlar combat vest with his bow casually strapped over his muscular shoulders: you'd been a goner for him.

Maybe it was his easy smile, the white flash of his teeth while he laughed, or the crinkling around his stunning blue-green eyes when he was happy, but you were completely and utterly enamoured with him.

_And it was seriously messing with your head._

You were saved from any continuation of your ridiculous inner babble by Clint crying out in relief as you glimpsed flashed of the concealed Quinjet amongst the towering evergreen trees. You swerved almost immediately, dimming the engine so that those following you couldn't hear. It didn't seem to matter anyway; Your manoeuvre in the trees had apparently worked and they could no longer see you. Smiling at this, you drew stealthily closer to your destination, until you were right next to it.

Clint unhooked his arm from around your body, and practically leapt up and away, bounding towards the Quinjet in barely contained joy. You tried not to dwell on the absence of warmth he'd left in his wake, and scurried after him. You didn't bother to turn off the snowmobile's engine. It wasn't like you were coming back for it, and you just didn't have the time anyhow. Clint had fished his set of keys from the pocket of his parka, and clicked on the electronic keypad, humming to himself all the while.

The rear door to the jet in-front of you silently opened, allowing you both to rush inside. As per usual, you both worked quickly and efficiently together. You wrapped a bandage tightly around your waist, trying to halt the blod-flow while Clint thrust the briefcase down on one of the benches, strapping it into place. After a few moments he joined you in the cockpit. You had taken your usual seat; The co-pilot's seat. Your partner gave you an approving look, and then slid into the pilot's seat while still whistling. 

Now that you felt you were able to relax slightly, you recognized the tune he was humming as Jay Z and Rihanna's 'Run This Town.' Shaking your head, you reached up to press a button on the panel above, closing the rear door. Clint was already flicking on the green switch by the time you removed the earpiece that you'd been using, and got your headset for the Quinjet into place.

"This is Agent Barton and Agent ______," Clint called over the system. "Reporting back to say that we're heading home. The mission was a success."

"Roger that, Hawkeye." A voice called back. "Radio in when you're approaching base."

"Copy that," Clint replied as the Quinjet lifted into the air without a sound. "This is Barton; Over and out."

"You're sooooo professional," you teased, rolling your eyes.

Clint narrowed his eyes and poked his tongue out at you, before turning his attention back out the window. The snowmobiles seemed to have faded into the distance, still desperately searching for you and the case of their missile plans that you had stolen from the very heart of their base. The Quinjet shot off suddenly, and the speed made you fly back into your seat. Clint's humming rose into song, and soon you were laughing and singing along. After a while, however, you fell silent and allowed your partner's melodic voice to wash over you comfortingly.

Your shoulders relaxed, and you allowed your eyes to briefly close as all the tension leaked out of you. Your hand fell down to clamp on the throbbing wound in your side, but you weren't fearful for yourself. You knew now that is wasn't life threatening.

You were safe now, and you would soon be out of this frozen hell-hole once and for all.

 

* * *

 

"You wanna get a bite to eat before we call it a day?" Clint asked as you both stepped out of the debriefing room.

A small bit of anticipation and excitement run through you, but quickly clamped down on it. You gave him a small smile and shrugged, trying not to appear too eager (and possibly tip him off to your crush on him).

"Sure," you replied, pulling on your black leather jacket, the one with the SHIELD logo over the right hand side of your chest. "Got anywhere in mind?"

"We can go back to mine, watch a movie and order pizza?" He offered, looking hilarious (but adorable) with a white bandage strapped across his nose. "Lucky would like to have you over. Like seriously, that dog adores you more than me, and I'm his owner. Or we could go to McDonalds? I'm just in the mood for something greasy and fatty. Always am, after a mission."

"You think I don't know that by now?" You joked, elbowing his side. "We _have_ been partners for seven months now."

"And what a long seven months it's been!" He teased, bumping you back.

"Oh shut _up,_ " you groaned, pretending to be upset.

But Clint could read you like a book, and knew that you weren't truly offended. He looked down at you fondly, eyes twinkling and his lips turned up in a smirk.

"So," he asked. "Which is it?"

You pretended to think it over, though you already knew fine well which option you would pick. McDonalds was cool, yeah, but you'd much prefer to hang out at Clint's apartment. Yes, it was messy most of the time (but in no way dirty), with his clothes strewn all over the floor from when he was too lazy to pick them up. Yes, it sometimes smelled a bit musty from all the times that it was closed up when Clint and you were away on a longer mission (or the strange smells when he left food in the fridge). Yes, Lucky constantly drooled onto your lap whenever you came over to hang out, leaving huge slobber stains all over your trouser legs. 

But you loved the place. 

It was just completely _Clint_ , down from the cracked coffee machine, and the mugs with the jokey slogans on them.

"I'd like to hang out at yours. As long as you have a decent movie for us to watch."

He opened his mouth to speak, but a thought occurred to you and you quickly cut him off.

"We're not watching Star Wars again."

"But-"

"No."

He frowned at you, obviously sad that you'd ruined his buzz. You just gave him a firm stare, showing that you were not going to cave into his will this time. You'd given in countless times before, disarmed and unused to being around his charming personality and good looks. That had resulted in weeks of Star Wars marathons, and in the last six months you'd seen every episode of it at least three times. Clint never seemed to get bored of them, and while you did enjoy them, watching they all so many times got old rather fast.

However, even though you complained about them, hanging out with Clint so much had been a great bonding experience for the two of you.

"Fine," he sighed, sounding a little whiney.

 "You take your car, I'll take mine. Meet you there?" You offered as you stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the underground car-park.

The metal doors in-front of you slid closed, and you were cut off from the rest of the world; alone with Clint once more.

"Nah, let's just both go in mine, and I'll drop you back so you can get yours when we're done," he jingled his set of keys in his hand as the elevator began to go down.

"You're sure?"

"Would I offer if I wasn't?" He countered you easily.

You accepted his point, Clint was not the kind of guy to do something that he didn't want to. He was as stubborn as a mule in that request.

The door _'dinged'_ open, revealing two other people waiting to get in.

"Tasha!" Clint cried joyously, moving forward to hug the gorgeous red-head that was smiling at him.

Feeling awkward and embarrassed, you followed him out of the elevator and waited silently, scuffing your shoes on the concrete. Clint continued to enthusiastically chat with his old partner, and you risked a glance up at her companion.

And almost fainted.

Steve Rogers stood beside Agent Romanoff, hands shoved in his pockets. He was staring straight ahead expressionlessly, standing ramrod straight in a fashion that you had seen many men with military history do. Obviously feeling your gaze on him, his head swivelled towards you. You stiffened slightly as you made eye contact with Captain America. There was a few seconds of tense silence between you both as Clint and Romanoff continued speaking, before Rogers' lips curved upwards in a wry smile. You returned it shyly, and after a few seconds he extended his hand towards you.

"Steve Rogers," he announced, as you reached up to clasp it.

_You seriously hoped that your palms weren't sweating too much._

You politely told him your name, and his eyes lit up slightly in recognition.

"Clint's new partner?" He asked, nodding towards the light brown-haired man.

"Yes, Captain," you replied respectfully, aware of how many girls would kill to be in your position right now.

Yes, you hung out with Clint (who was also an Avenger) on a regular basis, but from what you gathered he was the most normal of that team. Captain America was a whole other league to your wisecracking partner. And you had to admit that Rogers was hot. Hotter than Barton, even. But he just didn't do it for you. 

You were just completely a sucker for Clint and his blue-green eyes.

"Don't bother with the 'Captain' thing," Rogers ordered kindly with a wave of his hand. "Just call me Steve."

"Thank you," you were flattered, and informed Steve that he could also call you by your first name.

"So, are you just back from a mission?" Steve asked, looking at the scratches and bruises on your face and neck.

"Yup, we're just out of debriefing."

"I'm guessing you had to go to medical" He pointed out with a nod at Clint and his bandaged nose.

"He actually got that when we landed back here," you informed him in a semi-whisper, glancing at your partner to make sure that he wasn't listening.

Clint would kill you if he knew that you were telling.

"Someome opened a door into his face when we were walking back into the building," you giggled.

Much to your delight, Steve began to snicker a little as well, before coughing to cover it up and straightening up. He shot you a wink, and you knew that he was telling you that you shouldn't keep laughing for too long or Clint and Natasha would notice.

"Are you just about to go on an assignment?" You changed the subject as you noticed the duffel bag he had in his hand.

A quick glance at Romanoff's hand showed you that she had one too.

"Indeed we are," Steve chuckled, gesturing at Natasha. "Can't tell you where, though. You know how it is."

"I know how it is," you nodded in agreement, "That's a pity. Clint and I were going to get pizza and watch a movie. It would have been cool if you could come too."

Steve's smile lit up even more, causing you to blush. You hadn't meant anything by it. You were just trying to be nice to a man who had been forced into a leadership role in an era that wasn't his own. Steve Rogers deserved to have a break and some fun, every now and again, but now that you mulled it over you found that your comment could have been taken differently than you meant it to be.

A throat cleared behind you, and you saw that Clint and Agent Romanoff had fallen silent, and were now watching you and Steve curiously. Clint's brow was raised, a frown etched on his usually cheerful face. Romanoff was just looking from him, to you, and back again. She appeared highly amused, and you had no idea why.

"What?" You asked, slightly self-consciously as Clint's stare continued to bore into you. "Do I have something on my face?"

Your voice seemed to knock him out of whatever trance he was in, and he jumped a little, then blinked at you owlishly.

That was when Romanoff stepped forward, hand outstretched. A friendly smile was on her usually stoic face.

"Hi," she grinned, snatching your hand and pumping it rapidly. "I'm Natasha. It's so nice to finally meet you."

"You too," you responded, slightly shocked at how open she was. 

All the other agents around the office had often whispered about how callous and cold she was. You had allowed their words to shape your impression of her, and now you wondered if they were wrong. This woman didn't seem to be the venomous ice-queen that they had all described so darkly.

"I've heard so much about you," she smirked, glancing slyly at Clint.

He stared back at her expressionlessly, though you thought that you sensed a flicker of wariness behind his eyes. It was gone the next second, and you figured that you'd imagined it.

"I've heard a lot about you too," you responded, allowing yourself to smile at her. "You're kind of a legend around here. I feel like I'm meeting a celebrity!" 

She laughed at that, revealing another set of pearly white teeth.

_Jeez, what was it with all the Avengers having perfect teeth? Was it something they put in their superhero water?_

"Well then I've failed as a spy," she joked. "We're meant to go by unnoticed."

_Yeah. Like anyone couldn't notice her._

Steve interrupted before you could reply, shooting you an apologetic smile.

"Natasha, we really need to get going." 

"Of course," she sighed, and you got the feeling that she would have liked to stay and chat.

She was definitely not the merciless killer she'd been described to be.

"Maybe... Maybe we could hang out another time?" You found yourself asking her. "Get to know eachother. You know, girl time."

Her eyes lit up with excitement, and suddenly you felt bad for her. She was the only woman in a group of men, and you couldn't remember ever seeing her hanging out with other girls in SHIELD. She must get kind of lonely.

"I'd love to!" She answered. "I'll give you a shout when I get back."

"Awesome," you grinned back, and then turned to Steve. "And you should stop by sometime when I'm with the other agents. Boost my street credit, you know?"

Steve laughed, and Clint looked indignant.

"Being partners with me doesn't boost it enough?" He exclaimed.

You just rolled your eyes and reached out to take his arm.

"Come on, bird-brain," you ordered, tugging him off towards where his black Range Rover was parked. "I don't want to be out too late tonight."

After a few seconds of insisting that you answered him, he gave up and trailed after you towards the car. You glanced back just in time to see Steve and Natasha through the elevator doors as it closed. The super-soldier had been watching your retreating figure, and raised one hand in a wave when he saw that you were looking back. You blushed a little, still unable to believe that you were now on friendly terms with Captain America. Clint snorted in irritation on your left, and you turned inquisitive eyes to him.

"What?" You demanded, not going to let him away with it this time.

"You _like_ him," he jerked a thumb back in the direction of the elevator as you arrived by his car.

"No, I don't," you snapped as you opened the door to the passenger seat. "He seems nice, but not like that."

"You do. You were fawning all over him. Giggling and whispering. It was so obvious," There was a hint of annoyance in his voice as he buckled himself into the driver's seat with more force than was necessary.

"Just because I talk to a guy doesn't mean I fancy him, Barton."

"It does when you act like that. Like a pre-teen girl with a celebrity crush."

You became dangerously close to losing your temper. Even if you did like Steve (which you did not), it was none of Clint's business. He'd subconsciously made it clear many times that he was not interested in you that way.

"I was being friendly," you argued.

"Oh, is that what they call flirting nowadays?"

_Too far._

"How is it any of your business?" You snapped, twisting to glare at him. "You don't see me making comments when you're all over Natasha."

His jaw tightened, and for a second you thought he might order you to get out of the car. You had no idea what was up with him, he'd never spoken to you like this before. You felt tears pricking your vision, and concentrated on forcing them back.

The next few minutes were spent in silence. You sat in his car, in the dark of the underground carpark with your arms folded defensively across your chest and your eyes boring into the pillar just infront of you. Clint had one hand on the steering wheel, clenching it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He was glaring at the car manufacturers insignia in the middle of the steering wheel he clasped.

You thought about just getting out yourself, and leaned forward to pull the handle. His hand catching your arm stopped you.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, his hand trailing down your arm to gently take hold of your fingers. "I guess I'm just tired and hungry. You know I'm not usually this crabby. And you're right, it's none of my business. Forgive me?"

You wanted to tease it out, make him beg for your forgiveness to teach him a lesson. Instead you just exhaled loudly, and gave his fingers a quick squeeze before releasing them.

"Of course."

 "Pizza's on me for being a dick," he promised, causing you to grin properly.

He poked you on the forehead affectionately before starting up the engine and starting to drive you back towards his place.

"Oh, and for the record? I don't like Natasha in that way. _Not that it's any of your business._ " The last part was said jokingly.

"Okay," you replied calmly, heart soaring in your chest at his words. "And not that I should have to tell you again, but I don't like Steve. Though I suppose dating him would have perks."

Clint dragged his eyes off the road to arch a brow at you.

"I mean," you continued. "Going out for dinner dates would be cheaper because he'd be able to get a senior citizen discount."

 

* * *

 

A tirade of earsplitting barking greeted you when you unlocked the door to Clint's apartment. Lucky brushed past his owner to barrel straight into your legs, almost bowling you over in his enthusiasm. 

 "Hey, lovely boy!" You cried in delight, crouching down to to fondle his floppy ears.

The dog whimpered in joy, tail lashing against your legs with the force of a whip as his entire body squirmed. You laughed, pulling him into a hug as he tried to lick your face.

"Traitor," Clint growled, staring at the dog. "How come he greets you before he greets me? He's _my_ dog!"

"He obviously remembers who played with him constantly those three weeks that you were away on Avengers' business," you smiled, leaning forward to blow air into the dog's face.

"I still owe you for that sofa cushion he shredded," Clint told you as he dumped his jacket and keys on the hall table. "I completely forgot about that, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it," you insisted, standing up at last. "I wasn't going to tell you, but Mrs Delgado decided to take matters into her own hands."

"She gave me quite the lecture," Clint chuckled, remembering how your cleaning lady had nagged him about training his dog to be better behaved.

"Ah, don't mind her," you waved a hand dismissively. "I don't."

"Which is why she rants at me," Clint countered as you shrugged off your jacket. "She does it because unlike you; I listen to her."

"Which is funny, because it's usually the polar opposite," you teased, struggling to pull your arm out of the jacket sleeve.

"Here," Clint stepped forward and took the collar of your jacket.

Gently, he eased it off your arm and then hung it up on a peg, with the manners of an old fashioned gentleman. You wondered a little at that, you knew that he had grown up in a carnival and from what you'd heard they weren't too big on manners there.

"Thanks," you said a little shyly.

"Anything for my favourite damsel in distress." He pinched your side, causing you to squeak, and then sauntered towards the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was the first chapter. I was going to include all of their hang-out session, but then figured it would be far too long, so it will be continued in the next chapter. The main storyline will start at around chapter three, the first two chapters just really serve as introductions, and also so you can get a feel for their relationship. So sorry if it was kind of boring.
> 
> Currently, it's a close yet casual friendship between them (I kinda base it after the friendship I have with my guy best friend, even though I'm not interested in him). Of course if you read the tags you'll know the eventual events, so yes, the relationship will change. Oh, and for those who don't know; Lucky is Clint's dog in the comics.
> 
> Let me know what you think? :)


	2. "Awh, coffee, no"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the love on this so far xD You guys make me so happy! *Cuddles you all*
> 
> Weeeell, here's chapter two; The story is still warming up, but I do hope you like it!
> 
> (My love and admiration goes out to whoever can recognize the quotes from the Hawkeye comics that I use in this ;) )
> 
> I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Jeremy Renner making a Twitter and an Instagram account (incase you don't know; It's @renner4real)
> 
> Just to say, in this I imagine Clint to be around 43 years old (the age that Jeremy Renner is, and the age that Clint is said to be on the MCU Wikipedia page), and the reader to be around 31 or 32. Not that it really matters, though. I also am trying to add in bits from the comics to Marvel Cinematic Universe Clint in this story (as you may have guessed by the appearance of Lucky, and Clint's nose bandage)

"I'm gonna have a coffee, what do you want to drink?" Clint asked as you plonked down on the sofa.

"Water will be fine" You smiled, head lolling back against the sofa so that you could see him better.

 "You're boring" He tisked loudly at you, before retreating back into the kitchen.

You heard the clatter of him opening and closing the shelves, and then his voice rang out once more; "Oh, and you can go ahead and take a look through the movies. Pick out some stuff you like, and then we'll decide together. You know the drill"

"Yes, sir, Mr Barton sir" You yelled back, and heard him chuckle from the kitchen.

You groaned as you hauled yourself back up from the comfy grey sofa, and stepped across the spacious living room to the wide bookshelf of movies that ran along one wall. One other thing that you'd loved about Clint's apartment was his vast collection of movies. He was a bit of a movie maniac, which suited you fine as you were too. After he'd had a few drinks, he had once admitted to you that watching a lot of movies to help him cope with the leftover trauma from his father's beatings when he was a child, and to help him forget the guilt he felt about what he'd done under Loki's control. They distracted him, apparently.

You stood with your hands in your pockets infront of the display, scanning the shelves for something to catch your eyes. You weren't really a one movie genre kind of person, so you ended up picking out a selection of different movies. Suddenly, a loud crash resonated through the apartment, and you heard Clint groan in dismay in the kitchen.

"Awh, coffee, no" 

Giggling a little, you shook your head and left to see what was wrong.

Clint was standing in his tiled kitchen, staring forlornly at the smashed cup on the ground. It was pretty obvious what had happened.

"Stop standing there, and help me clean up" You told him, hurling some kitchen paper into his chest as you picked up a cloth.

Getting down onto your hands and knees, you began to clean up the puddle, being careful of the shattered glass. Clint joined you soon after, knees creaking as he crouched down.

"You old man" You teased lightly.

"I'm only like ten years older than you" He protested.

Smiling at him, you just continued to mop up the spillage until it was all gone. Satisfied with your work, you rose as one and looked at eachother.

"Go back in" He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I'll be over after I make myself another coffee"

"Grab the pizza brochure when you're coming, yeah?" You reminded him.

"What's the point? We always just end up ordering the same thing" He responded, and you had to agree that that was true.

You didn't bother to reply, but just shrugged and continued on your way back into his living room. In the kitchen, you could hear him phoning the pizza place just around the block. (They always delivered very quickly, something you both loved). Half-listening to him ordering, you picked up all of the movies that you had chosen and flickered through them once again: You hadn't picked out any romance movies, purely because Clint (seeing as he was a guy) didn't really enjoy them, and also due to the fact that you would find it too awkward to watch something where people constantly declared their love to one another with the man that you were in love with. After deciding that you weren't too keen as you had originally thought on some of the movies and putting them back on the shelf, you selected a few more in their place.

When Clint finally emerged back out with a new steaming mug of in one hand, and a glass of water for you in the other, you allowed him time to place the cups on the coffee table before shoving the movies into his chest. He examined them, and you watched his reaction closely. 

The movies you bad chosen were: the Hangover, Kick-Ass, Star Trek, Scream, Step Brothers, the first Lord of the Rings, and the Blair Witch Project.

"Good options" Clint commented as his eyes roved over them once more.

"I pride myself in having good taste" You joked as you collapsed back onto his sofa.

He snorted; "Like hell you do. I saw the last guy you dated, remember?"

"Don't remind me" You groaned, much to his amusement, and covered your face in your hands.

A few months ago, after falling into yet another 'Clint-will-never-love-me-and-I-know-that-I-shouldn't-be-upset-about-it-but-I-am' mood, you had decided to try and get over him once and for all. In a rather brilliant stroke of stupidity, you had allowed one of your friends from outside work to set you up on a blind date with 'oh my gosh, like, _the_ perfect guy.'

Simon. He was handsome, indeed, but he had the personality of a brick wall. 

A brick wall that just so happened to be a conspiracy theorist.

This had been rather awkward for you, as you were one of the secret agents that he obsessed over so manically. Clint had met him one time after dropping by your apartment uninvited. Of course, Simon had invited him in, and then proceeded to tell Clint about his craze over dinner, while you tried to hide your blushing face behind the salad bowl.

Your partner had obviously found it highly amusing, and barely a week went by without him mentioning it.

"So" You asked, desperately trying to change the subject, "Have you decided?"

"Well, what do _you_ want to watch"

"I'm happy to watch any of the stuff that I picked out"

"You sure?"

"Would I have given it to you if I hadn't been?" You arched a brow.

He mulled over this for a few seconds before replying; "Good point. I'm in a kinda 'Lord of the Rings' mood"

"You just want to drool over Legolas. Don't lie" You shot back as he slid the DVD into the player.

His nose crinkled in amusement, and you thought that the bandage on it made him look even more adorable than usual.

Which you hadn't thought was possible, but apparently it was.

"I like Legolas, you're in love with Gimli" He said, playing along, "It can be a double wedding"

You promptly choked on your water, and Clint ended up diving onto the sofa to thump you on the back as hard as he could. The hitting soon turned into a full on tussle, you both resembling playfighting puppies more than highly trained SHIELD operatives. Still laughing and spluttering, you fended him off with flailing hands, falling back to get away from him. When the mirth finally died down you quickly became aware of how moving backwards had affected your position.

You were lying on your back, hands still resting on Clint's firm torso, fingertips pushing him lightly away. He was hovering over you, his right arm braced above your head, and his left was gripping one of your wrists. You could feel the heat off his body emanating in waves, and had to fight the urge to swallow with desire.

Clint was looking at you curiously, like he was trying to figure something out:

Probably what was making your face go so goddamn red.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Lucky skittered out of Clint's bedroom, his one good eye narrowed in distrust as he bolted for the door while barking profusely. Clint eased himself off you, and you sat up, running a hand through your messed up hair.

"Back in a sex- sec" Clint blurted out, correcting himself quickly even though his eyes had widened in panic.

Your head swivelled to follow his movements as he trooped over to the door; Trying to shush Lucky as he did. Gently nudging the dog out of the way with his knee, Clint opened the door to reveal a man standing there with a pizza.

"Speedy's Pizza delivery for... Justin Bieber?" The errand boy said confusedly.

You slapped a hand across your mouth to keep from giggling as Clint nodded seriously.

"That's me" Your partner said, "Canadian singing sensation"

"Riiiiight" The guy looked at him through furrowed brows, obviously trying to figure out if Clint was crazy, or just messing with him.

Clint didn't bother to answer, just plucked the circular cardboard box out of the boy's hands, and stuffed a was of cash in.

"Keep the change" The archer ordered, and then kicked the door closed.

He turned back to look at you unabashedly, and made his way slowly back to your side.

"I told you to stop giving fake names" You chuckled as he put your dinner on the coffee table and sat down heavily next to you, "It's just a really weird thing for you to do"

"You found it funny" He accused, sounding wounded.

"The first three times, yes. But a grown man telling the girl at Starbucks to write Beyoncé Knowles on his cup was just strange"

Obviously not able to think of a retort, Clint just rolled his eyes and opened up the box. The delicious smell of pizza filled the air, and your stomach rumbled loudly. Apart from a Granola bar in the med bay, you hadn't eaten anything since you'd jetted off for your mission at 5am this morning. You had managed to ignore the hunger pangs throughout the day, the adrenaline blocking them out, but now that food was right infront of you they came back in full force. You hastily grabbed a slice of pizza, letting out an appreciative 'mmmm' as you bit into it.

"God, I'm so hungry" Clint commented, scoffing down his food in a manner that suggested that he had been starved for weeks.

You nodded in agreement, then picked up the remote to press play on the movie. The familiar themem music filled the air, and you settled back to enjoy the show. However, after a few minutes Clint began to speak again.

"I thought you found it funny" He sounded slightly wistful, "That was why I kept it up"

"What?" You asked distractedly.

"The fake names thing"

"Oh" You looked at him from the corner of your eye, feeling bad, "Well... Maybe it is kinda funny" You relented, allowing a small smile to curve your lips upwards, "I guess I was just trying to be mature"

"So you like it okay?"

"I do" You laugh-sighed, "Watching people's reactions is quite hilarious"

 Clint smiled happily in response, and then leaned back against the arm of the sofa. He swung his legs up so that they rested across your lap, and the sudden weight when they landed on your body had you letting out a surprised 'oomf!'

 You arched a brow at him, as if to say "Seriously?" (Although you didn't really mind, it was flattering how comfortable he was with you). Your partner just shrugged in response, and continued to chew contentedly on the stringy cheese pizza.

A pitiful whine interrupted you, and your head tilted down to see Lucky sitting directly underneath you. The dog was staring up into your face with pleading big brown eyes.

Eyes that were intent on the pizza in your hand.

"Pizza Dog is at it again" You informed his owner.

"Lucky, stop begging" Clint reprimanded, though he ripped off a slice anyway and gave it to the dog.

"You know that's not healthy for him" You said uneasily, as you had so many times before.

"But he likes it" Clint defended as he always did.

You shrugged, knowing from past experience that this wasn't going to go anywhere; "You're his owner, I guess"

"Don't get all huffy at me now" Clint's eyes narrowed.

"I'm not getting into a huff!" You protested.

"Good, because we've bickered enough for one day" He reached across to gently poke you in the shoulder.

You turned your attention back to the movie once more, and there was very little talking (apart from the occasional quoting of certain movie lines).

When the credits finally rolled, you sighed and checked your watch. Stiffening in horror, you knew that your eyes were widening as you read the time. 

It was so much later than you'd thought.

"Clint!" You yelped, hopping to your feet and speeding towards the door.

"What?"

"We've got to go _now_ " You ordered as you tugged on your jacket.

Lucky was by your side, casually trying to play tug of war with you by refusing to let go of your chain purse. He always did this whenever you had to leave. Usually you found it endearing, how the dog enjoyed playing with you. 

Right now, however, it was kind of irritating.

Clint frowned, twisting his arm to look at his own watch, "But it's not that la- Shit"

"Exactly" You snapped, both hands now clamped on the chain as you tried to pull your bag from Lucky.

"Why don't you just bed down here for the night? Use the spare room" Clint shrugged, looking unbothered by your plight.

"I don't think so"

"Why not? Natasha used to do it. You can trust me, I'm not gonna try anything"

 _Oh, if only that was the problem_.

"Barton, I can't. I have mission reports to review back in my apartment"

"Can't that wait until later?"

_"Goddammit Clint!"_

"Okay! Alright, fine!"

Clint jumped to his feet, summoning his dog with a loud; "Lucky! To heel!"

The canine immediately obeyed, trotting back to his side while panting happily. You straightened up, breathing heavily, and threw Clint his own jacket and car keys.

 

* * *

 

"So, see you tomorrow?" Clint asked as he pulled up next to your car.

The sparse lights in the underground car park cast shadows across his face, so you could just make out the faint glimmer of his eyes. The parking lot was completely deserted, save for your own car.

"If I get time" You sighed, "I'll be in mission control for most of the day, signing off on reports"

"Is there still all that uproar about what happened in Quebec?" Clint asked in disbelief.

"Yes" You sighed.

You had wanted to go the entire evening without discussing all the various dramas at work. It all just served to make your head spin and your stress levels rise like a hot air balloon.

"Wow" Clint whistled, "Everyone thinks that that was sorted out weeks ago"

"It's mostly over" You agreed, "I just have to run a few more back-checks"

"Good luck with that" Clint said as you opened the door of the Range Rover, "You know you can call me of you need anything, right? A cup of coffee, or whatnot. I'll be running through some combat moves with the recruits as Hill requested, but apart from that I mostly have a free day"

"Thanks" You smiled, leaning across to touch his arm, "If I need anything, you'll be the first to know"

"Good girl" He grinned at you and winked, "Catch you later, alligator"

"In a while, crocodile" You replied, closing the door.

You turned, bracing yourself against the faint chill in the car park. Quickly, you made your way over to your grey Jaguar XF. Patting it's hood affectionately, you took a quick moment to admire it's smooth design and beauty before you unlocked the driver's side and slid into the seat. 

You had gotten the car around three months ago, as after you were promoted to work with Clint; Your wage basically skyrocketed. But you supposed that was what you got when you were assigned to work with an Avenger. With status and hard-work came the rewards. So, three months ago you gathered up all the money that you had amassed for the four months beforehand, got a nicer apartment and bought a better car to match.

Yes it was second hand. Yes, it was a few years old, but it was fully functional, gorgeous, and you couldn't have been happier with it.

The flash of headlights made you raise your gaze once again, and you jerked your head upwards to see that Clint was still there, making sure you got into your car okay. You appreciated it, even though you knew that there was no need for him to have done it. There was almost absolutely no chance of someone being able to abduct you in SHIELD's underground parking complex. The archer lifted one hand off the steering wheel in a half-wave of farewell, and then spun his car around to drive cautiously out into the open. Smiling to yourself at how great he was, you started up the car and drove after him. He took a right as he exited the underground carpark, and you then turned left. You watched his car disappear in your rear-view mirror, and then he was gone. You drove on.

Streetlights and neon shop signs passed by over your head, giving everything an enchanting, exciting glow. It wasn't too busy out, which you rather enjoyed. It was nice to be able to drive along and glance up at the starry sky every now and then, without fear of crashing into anyone. You thought about turning on the radio, but then decided not to. You enjoyed being alone with your thoughts; To have silence around you, except for the soft purr of the Jag's engine.

When you finally reached your apartment, you wasted no time in hurriedly locking up your car, and then rushing up the stairs. Your footfalls must have been heavier than you thought, because one of your neighbours, Mr Fitzpatrick, poked his head out from his room as you passed by.

"About time you were home, lass" He called quietly, "The missus and I were beginning to get worried about you in here"

You smiled at your kindly elderly neighbour as you opened up your apartment.

"I'm fine, Mr Fitz. I was just watching movies at a friend's house"

The white haired man squinted at you; "It was that boy, wasn't it? The handsome one that you always have around. He came to dinner with us one time, am I correct?"

You nodded, smiling shyly; "Yeah. That's Clint. He's my part- Colleague"

"He's the one she fancies!" Another voice came from inside the Fitzpatrick's apartment as Mrs Fitzpatrick approached the door.

"I don't!" You protested desperately.

"Oh, love, don't worry" Mrs Fitz peered out at you, a knowing grin on her wizened face, "We won't say anything"

You thought about arguing that you didn't like Clint some more, but then you just sighed in defeat and raised your hands into the air in surrender.

"Go and get some rest, you two" You chuckled, "You don't have to keep waiting up for me"

"Well, until you finally get that boy where you want him, who else is going to?" Mr Fitz chortled, and then closed the door.

Laughing softly to yourself, you shook your head and nudged open the door to your own place.

Your neighbours were such a lovely couple. When you had moved in they had been around immediately to introduce themselves and see if you needed anything. They weren't pushy or nosy, but just honestly concerned for your well-being. Personally, you thought this was due to the fact that they had a daughter around your age who lived at the other side of the world. You had gathered that they didn't get to see her often as her job was too demanding, and they missed her terribly. Mr Fitz had once jokingly said that they had sort of adopted you now so that they had someone else to parent and take care of. 

Although he was attempting to be funny, it kind of rang true. It explained why they sometimes waited up for you to get home so that they knew you were safe (usually on a night where they had heard that there had been a murder/robbery/abduction somewhere in the city on the six o'clock news), why Mrs Fitz was always baking you pies and other treats for no reason, why they invited you over to dinner at least once every week. You loved it though, as your parents also lived very far away from Washington and you rarely ever got to see them. The Fitzpatrick's made you feel slightly less homesick.

Throwing your jacket onto your cream coloured leather sofa, you wandered over to the fridge to get a snack. Pulling out a yoghurt, you ripped the top off of it, grabbed a spoon and leaned against the counter as you began to eat. You'd tackle that stack of paperwork on your desk after you had another bite to eat.

Letting your mind wander, you remembered the day that Mr Fitzpatrick had referred to, the day that Clint had come over for dinner at the Fitzpatrick's. 

It was around a month and a half ago, and you had just returned from a week long solo mission in southern Italy. As soon as you stepped in the door of your apartment, tanned and jet-lagged, you had checked your rapidly blinking answering machine to discover various voicemails from friends, family, and the electrician.

And thirteen messages from Clint; All in various states of boredom. With a week of training incompetent recruits in advanced combat while all his friends were on missions all around the globe, he had gotten fed up pretty quickly. Clint was like that. It was strange that he was, after all he was an Avenger.

When you first met him he'd seemed polite, but disinterested and even slightly resentful. He had been tough to crack, and you kind of got the feeling that he didn't want you as his partner. What you didn't know was that you were not the problem.

Well, not _really_.

Years upon years of bad experiences and terrible luck had granted him with a deep mistrust of new people. He always thought that they'd betray him, leave him or hurt him. That was why he let very few people get close. However, when someone eventually wore him down (as you yourself had done), you found the man of your dreams, and your schoolgirl crush turned into something more. Clint had rapidly changed in his attitude towards you after that, inviting you places and getting to know you. You found him to be a steadfast friend, and a very good one.

Anyhow, in his voice messages he had been begging you to call him as soon as you got back, and so you did. In around twenty minutes later; He arrived at your front door, a crate of beers under his arm and a grin on his face. You both had been just about to settle down to a microwave dinner when there was another knock on your front door. Clint followed you over as you answered it, hovering over your shoulder incase there was any kind trouble.

Mrs Fitz had stood patiently outside, wearing a flour-coloured apron.

She had greeted you happily, told you she was glad that you were back safely and fussed over your tan and how good it looked, and then invited you to come over and join them for dinner. You were about to refuse on the basis that you had company, but before you could, she sighted Clint and issued an invite to him as well. You had ended up accepting, and then an extremely great and amusing night.

Clint was friendly towards your neighbours, something you were glad for as you knew his usual attitude towards strangers. But the Fitzpatrick's were just lovable people, and even he was pulled under their spell.

At the end of it, the Fitz's had told Clint that he was welcome to come over to their place whenever you were, and he in turn had offered that if they ever needed someone to fix shelves or do any heavy lifting; They should give him a call.

Lost in the memory, you jerked a little when a noise rang out as the spoon you were wielding scraped the bottom of the yoghurt pot. Leaving the spoon in the sink to wash in the morning, you raised your arms over your head and stretched, yawning as you did so. A quick pain in your side reminded you that that was probably not the best idea, and you winced.

The wound you had received yesterday had been stitched when you were in the med bay, and you couldn't afford to rip them.

Suddenly, the events of today caught up with you, and you began to feel very, very tired. Travelling from one side of the world to steal missile plans, and then coming back the same day took a lot out of a person. You glanced at the door to your office. It was slightly ajar, and you could see the mountain of paperwork covering your desk. Rubbing your eyes, you looked at it mournfully.

_Maybe you could just get up early tomorrow and do it then?_

_Yeah, that sounded like a good idea._

Grumbling to yourself about having to get up at six tomorrow, you shuffled towards your room. You only bothered to brush your teeth and to place the contents of your pockets on the nightstand, before collapsing onto your mattress heavily, clothes and all.

Within half an hour, you were fast asleep.

 

* * *

 

_RING-RING-RING-RING!_

You jerked out of your slumber, had immediately flying over to slam down on the alarm clock. However, the noise didn't stop.

And it was seriously hurting your head. 

Raising your head with a loud groan, your eyes blearily searched for whatever device it was that you were going to throw out the window. 

Your phone sat on your bedside table, vibrating and ringing loudly as the screen lit up. You fumbled for it, and then checked the caller ID: The SHIELD logo was the only thing that was displayed.

And it was four thirty in the morning.

Letting out another sound of dismay, you clapped a hand to your forehead in exhaustion, pulling yourself together before you answered.

"Hello?" You said, trying your best to sound awake.

"We need you to come in" The brisk voice of Maria Hill greeted you.

You flinched a little at the ice in her tone; "If this is about the Quebec reports, I was going to get them finished tomor-"

"This isn't about the Quebec reports. Forget them" She snapped, "Just be here in forty-five minutes"

"Yes ma'am" You answered humbly, already kicking the bedsheets off your legs.

You hit the end call button, and then began the routine of hurrying to work. After changing into a fresh pair clothes, you threw in a beanie hat to cover the rather nappy bedhead that you had no time to fix, and rushed out the door. Within a few minutes, you were speeding down the highway towards SHIELD's HQ, munching on the chocolate bar you'd snatched on your way out.

You stumbled into the briefing room that the girl in the lobby had directed you to with less than one minute to spare. Unfortunately, fear of Maria Hill's wrath had made you barrel down the corridors as you could, so when you rushed into the room, red-faced and panting, the double doors that you had thrown open crashed into the walls on either side with enough force to make the room vibrate slightly.

As the loud crash rang through the air, everyone turned to look at you.

You winced in mortification.

Three people stood in the room, at the end of the conference table. One person sat lazily on a chair alongside it.

Clint sniggered at you, then painted to the empty seat beside him. Watching the others embarrassedly, you shuffled over to his side.

Agent Hill just rolled her eyes and turned back to converse with the other two. Director Fury(!?) stood beside her, glaring at you. You shrunk down into your seat as Clint leaned across his armrest to whisper in your ear, but your eyes still turned to the third standing person.

Tall and balding, he appeared to be around fifty. He was wearing a navy suit, had glasses, and had an air of self-importance around him.

Or maybe that was just his cologne. Which you could smell from all the way over here.

"Spectacular entrance" Your partner teased lightly, capturing your attention once again.

"Oh, shut up" You groaned, slapping his arm lightly.

He chuckled, but held up his hands and mimed zipping his lips shut and throwing away the key. 

"Any idea why we're here?" Clint asked quietly, cool breath tickling your neck.

"Hill didn't say" You replied, watching him from the corner.

Then, the woman herself cleared her throat, and your attention was turned back to her once more. Eyeing you both sternly, she took out two black folders from under her arm, and slammed them onto the table. You jumped a little, and an amused twinkle entered her hard eyes. Tilting your head upwards and staring down the table, you could see that they were SHIELD briefings. 

SHIELD _mission_ briefings, to be exact.

"So" She said, sliding the folders across the tabletop with such force that they jammed into your waiting fingers, "Let's get started, shall we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, leave a review?
> 
> And to all 'Winter's Thaw' and 'the Protection Detail' readers; I will be updating those two asap, so just sit tight a little bit longer, my lovelies <3


	3. "You may now kiss the bride"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! First off, thank you all for all the love on Clint! It is actually so great to find that other people adore him as well, and are excited for this story! So merci beacoup for all the kudos, comments, subscriptions and bookmarks!
> 
> The rest of my stories will be updated soon enough (for the last six days I've been writing the next Loki oneshot in the 'Avengers' Oneshots' stuff. It's going to end up being well over 5,000 words, and it'll take a few more days to get done... It's just so freaking long and exhausting, I got really sick of it after Day 4, so I decided to do some work on this fic as it makes me happy ^.^ ). After that oneshot is up, my Hangover fic will be updated, so just sit tight for a teensy bit longer.
> 
> In other news, I have finally decided to start writing my FIRST ACTUAL BOOK. I won't detail it to you all now, the fine aspects of the plot have not yet been thought out, but IF I ever finish it (or if it ever gets published), then I'll tell y'all the name and hopefully some of you would be interested enough to buy a copy :D
> 
> This chapter ain't too long, and there's not a whole load of ClintXReader scenes, but it's just really setting the pace for the next chapter, in which there will be ClintXReader scenes raining from the sky (to all you sciency people, I am not a science person, so if the name of the serum is something completely ridiculous in terms of chemistry stuff or something - It's not meant to be a formula, just a batch number).
> 
> So yeah, hope you enjoy :)

"Agent Hill, I have to go" Fury growled, "Can you brief them on your own?"

The other man was already at the door, waiting for Fury with expectant eyes.

"Of course, sir" Maria inclined her head, "And when we're done, shall I bring them to the studio?"

Fury turned his head towards you, and ran his gaze down you critically. Your hand crept up to try tame your bed-head, raking your fingers through it. You grimaced as you realised that it was no use, and that you really should have ran a brush through it once or twice or before rushing out the door. 

"You'd better"

And with that, the door slid open, and Fury strode out, his long coat flapping around his ankles.

Maria Hill rubbed a hand over her face, and you suddenly thought about how exhausted she must be. She was still in the same clothes that she'd been in when you returned from the mission yesterday, so it seemed like she hadn't gone home. You couldn't imagine being here all day, dealing with the things she did and handling all that stress. In that split second of realisation, it gave you a large amount of new respect for her. She really was rather an extraordinary human being.

"This is Ethan and Crystal Meyers" Maria informed you, pointing at the two pictures paper-clipped to the top corner of the front page of the mission briefing, "Married in 2012, no children. Ethan runs a large shipping company, while Crystal is known to frequent spas and country clubs. To everyone around them they seem to be the normal, stereotypical well-off married couple"

"But of course 'everyone' is wrong" Clint interrupted..

Continuing to look at the Meyers, you began to chew your lower lip thoughtfully as you studied the pair before you.

Ethan Meyers was extraordinary handsome, wit dark blue eyes and a shock of black hair. He was all suited up in the picture, staring proudly into the camera lense. His stance was strong, his arms muscular, and a sly half-grin curved his pink lips upwards. You had the feeling that a lot of girls went completely crazy over him wherever he went. The picture looked official, and you gathered it had been taken for a specific business reason.

His wife, Crystal Meyers, was just as stunning. Green eyes and waist long bottle blonde hair, she appeared to be something that belonged on a magazine. She was wearing an expensive seeming faux-fur rimmed white coat, and light blue jeans.

"Damn!" Clint exclaimed from his chair, "Do we have more pictures of her?" He began to rapid flip through the pages ahead.

Maria shot him a glare, and so he shrunk back in his seat and hastily flipped back to the front page. You hid a smile as Maria nodded curtly at him to show that that was indeed the right thing to do. She folded her arms, and then continued once more.

"You're right. We think that the shipping company that the Meyers own is involved in illegal activity, such as transporting drugs, money, and most notably weaponry" Her smile turned grim, "And not of the usual kind. If you would both turn to the next page, please"

You obediently did as asked. The table in-front of you thudded as Clint swung his booted feet up onto it, causing Maria to jump in surprise. She shot Clint another look of anger, and once more you had to hide your amusement. He always managed to piss her off, and it was rather entertaining (seeing as he just did it without realising what he was doing). You then turned your attention to the page in-front of you.

The first thing that caught your eye was the picture of a large needle filled to the brim with some kind of bright green liquid. Your eyes briefly scanned over the page.

 

* * *

 

**Serum N8-E470**

**_First Invented:_ Arnim Zola, 1940.**

**_Perfected By:_ (?)**

**_Uses:_ Clouds coherent thought. Has potential to case widespread death and destruction.**

**_Side Effects:_ Subjects given smaller doses suffer from increased paranoia and aggression. In medium amounts, it increases the recipients **rage response. Subjects infected with NE-E470 grow incredibly violent and lose all reason steadily as the quantity is escalated even further. They no longer recognize friend nor foe, or even family. They are highly dangerous, and will only attempt to kill anyone around them.**  In large quantities, it can cause brain haemorrhaging and death.**

**_Dispersal Methods:_ The chemical can be released in the form of green tinged (odourless) gas or can enter the bodily system through a liquid injection straight into the bloodstream, or ingested as a white powder with a greenish tint.**

* * *

 

"That's what you think they're shipping?" You enquired, shocked.

"Yes" Maria nodded, "A few months ago, we became suspicious of the travel patterns of Meyer's Inc. We intercepted one of their ships in-bound for America, and on-board we found a crate of needles containing the liquid version of Serum N8-E470. When we attempted to question Meyer's Inc about the incident, they claimed they have no knowledge on it and blamed it on the company that had hired them to ship their goods. We knew that this was a lie, Ethan Meyers is obsessive when it comes to his company, his managers are all over the place. If anyone so much as drops a parcel, he knows about it. It's what makes him so successful, but also so easy to catch out. Anyhow, for reasons unknown, we could not find anything to link the Meyer's to the purchasing of the serum, and Director Fury ordered us to look into the matter no further. His reasoning for this was because we do not know the source of origin of the serum, and we have no leads on finding where it is. We can't tip the Meyers or their seller off that we don't believe tjeir lies and are on to them. If this serum reaches our shores in large quantities, the effects _will_ be decastating. Our best chance of finding the manufacturer is sending two undercover agents to befriend the Meyers, infiltrate their daily lives and workplace, and find out what they know"

"So that's why we're here" You reasoned quietly to yourself.

"Yes" Maria confirmed, "Now, if you'll both turn on two pages"

The sound of rustling paper filled the air as you and Clint did what she asked once again.

"Nice place" Clint whistled as he looked at the full colour picture of a house.

"Told you they make a lot of money" Maria commented.

There was a _'click'_ as the door behind you opened, and one of the new recruits walked in, precariously carrying three coffee cups in his hands. The young guy stopped for a second as soon as he caught sight of Clint, staring at him in wonder. You hid a smile behind your hand, realising quickly that this guy was another one of the Avengers' Fanclub. Maria looked at him sourly, and then coughed loudly to get his attention. The recruit stated, blushed fiercely, and then started moving once again. He made his way carefully over to the table, crouching down so he could deposit the cups on the table without dropping them. Clint snorted in amusement, but you felt sorry for the poor guy and rose to your feet to help.

"What are these?" You asked as you plucked them out of his folded arms and deposited them on the table.

"D-Director Fury sent me to f-f-fetch them for you" The young man stuttered out nervously, shooting another awestruck glance in Clint's direction, "H-He said that you and Agent B-Barton would need them, that you had a long n-night ahead of you, and that Agent Hill had b-been working so hard, she deserved a r-r-r-reward"

"That's nice of him" Clint leaned forward to snatch up the styrofoam cup with his name written on it.

You handed Maria her's, and then picked up your own. When you turned around, the guy was still standing there.

"Uhhh" You began, intending to politely enquire of he needed something else.

You were beaten to it by Maria, who seemed to possess as much tact as Clint did (so basically none at all).

Staring at the guy intensely over her drink, she snapped; "You can go, now"

The newbie jerked out of his trance in shock. The harshness in her words had the guy turning bright red in shame, and even you frowned with sympathy for him. It wasn't everyday you got to meet your  idol (well, maybe it was for _you_ ). Yes, the man was supposed to be a special agent.

But even special agents were human, too.

You twisted around to look at your silent partner, trying to communicate with just your eyes. After a few seconds, he stopped staring happily at his coffee cup, and obviously became aware of being watched as his head snapped up and his eyes met yours. You nodded your head towards the frantically apologising new recruit, widened your eyes, and twisted your mouth downwards. Clint seemed to understand what you were trying to tell him, as he rolled his eyes in exasperation. You gave him another pleading look. He sighed loudly, mouthing _'for you'_ and then called out;

"Hey kid, wait a second" The twenty-something year old kid froze, then turned around slowly.

"Y-Yes, sir?" He managed to choke out.

"What's your name?" Clint replied, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Aaron"

"Cool. Just wanted to say thanks for the coffee, Aaron. It's great"

A beaming grin lit up the guy's face.

"Thank you, Agent Barton" He managed to get out without stuttering.

"No problem. See you around, kid" Clint waved to him as he stepped out of the doors.

You could see the spring in Aaron's step as he disappeared down the corridor. Turning to face your partner, you gave him an appreciative grin, and then looked back down at the file.

"Where were we?" Maria asked tiredly, sitting down on the edge of the desk.

"Getting into position to spy on the Meyers" You told her helpfully.

"Right" She rubbed the back of her neck, "To get you in the closest possible position to do this, you are both going to move into the house directly across the street. Clint, in the next three to four days you are going to be put through intensive accountancy training. An accountant in Meyers Inc was fired for gross misconduct only last week, and the job vacancy still has to be advertised and filled. We have a contact in HR who can help us get you the job. Check their record books, anything that can give us a lead to where the serum came from. ______, your job is to get close to Crystal Meyers. While Clint is learning accountancy, you'll be learning what to say on all the matters that Crystal finds appealing in order to give you the best chance at befriending her. Spend as much time as you possibly can in their house, introduce Clint to Ethan, and if you get the opportunity, you get into Ethan's study and you look for anything that may help us"

"Does Crystal have a job?" You asked as you scanned the blonde woman's profile.

"She's a full-time housewife" Maria responded, "Though it's not like she actually does anything around the house, though she seems to enjoy baking. Her interests include shopping, yoga, horse-riding, throwing house-parties, doing charity work to keep up the image, and spending time at the country club"

Clint spluttered in indignation; "So ______ basically gets to spend her time relaxing while I have to do bloody _accountancy?"_

"Yes" His superior dead-panned, "Unless you want to give up this assignment and I can arrange for ______ to take this assignment with someone else, perhaps Captain Rogers. His schedule upon his return from his latest mission is quite free"

"No no no, it's fine" Clint said quickly, "I'm happy to go on this mission, I just hate numbers"

"We have experts to train you" Maria reassured him, And if you get stuck on how to do something just contact the mission support room. They'll handle it for you"

"What's the deal with this?" You interjected, kind of confused, "Like, what type of relationship are Clint and I meant to have? Is he my gay room-mate or something?"

Maria laughed loudly, shaking her head and gazing at you in complete amusement.

"No, you are not meant to be room-mates" She chuckled.

You stared at her through narrow eyes, aware of Clint across the table cocking his head to the side in curiosity. However, a small smile was playing around his lips and you got the feeling that he had a hunch about what was coming next. For some reason, that made you feel even more nervous.

"What are we meant to be, then?" You asked suspiciously.

Maria didn't answer right away, and you got the feeling that she was purposely building suspense for the moment.

"I'd forgotten that you'd never been on an assignment like this before" She said finally, "______, you and him are meant to be _married"_

 

 

* * *

 

The next few days were -in your opinion- utter torture.

Straight after the briefing, Maria led you down to the team of make-up artists awaiting to receive you. You were immediately swept away into their studio, where they proceeded to poke and prod you with many beautifying tools. After a few hours you emerged, eyebrows done up, body waxed and sore, brain bursting after acting out countless make-up tutorials until you could do them blindfolded. Any-time you showed signs of slowing down they just threw a cup of coffee or two at you.

This was all so that Crystal Meyers could see you as one a  wealthy, attractive and stylish woman (therefore, a suitable potential friend). After that, you were allowed a few hours to sleep before you were up again and flown out of the city in order to take some horse-riding lessons. On the flight back you caught some sleep, and as SHIELD decided that there was no other stuff for you to learn (as you were a decent cook, and throwing parties and going to country clubs didn't actually need that much preparation). You could only imagine how much worse it all was for Clint, who had to learn how to be a master accountant in three days.

You had only spent two days doing things that required relatively little concentration, meanwhile Clint had to become an expert in something that he had no interest in doing. The third day, when SHIELD had allowed you to go home and pack away the new clothes that they had bought you into suitcases (they decided that your own clothes were far too casual, and not dressy enough to wear around the Meyers), you had also taken care of Clint's loose ends on his behalf. You felt that he had too much to deal with without having to worry about who would mind Lucky, and who would pack the clothes that he also had been given.

So immediately after you had gone over to the Fitzpatricks and told them that you were going on a 'business trip' for a number of weeks. They bought it without question, still firmly believing that you were a corporate lawyer as you had told them you were when you'd first met them. When that was all done, you drove to his house, gave his dog (who the cat-loving neighbour had been feeding, due to pleading texts from an office-bound Clint) some fried chicken as a treat. You then packed him into the back-seat of your car and drove back to your place. You had no other option but to go to the nearest doggy and moggie hotel, and pay the fee for Lucky's stay yourself. You told them that you weren't sure how long you would be away, and to just charge your bank account by week. They accepted this and you gave the dog a final, long hug goodbye, before straightening up and walking out.

As you made your way down the steps and towards your car, your phone began to ring in your bag.

"Hullo?" You said as you fished it out of your bag and held it to your ear.

"Hey" An exhausted voice sighed on the other side.

Concern swept through you at just how very tired he sounded.

"Clint, are you okay?" You stopped to lean against the chain link fence.

"Yeah. Just tired" He mumbled in reply, and you knew that he was probably rubbing a hand over his face as he always did when he was over-tired, "Listen, they want to know if you're ready to go. They want to jet us off to Philadelphia airport as soon as they can, don't want to be too late on getting me that job"

"I'm on my way, then" You decided, resuming walking back to your Jag, "Lucky's in the kennels, and I have both your stuff and my stuff packed. They said that they'd have more clothes waiting for us there"

"Sounds good" He replied, though you got the feeling that at this moment he didn't care one bit, "Here, I'm going to catch some sleep. Catch you later, alligator"

"In a while, crocodile" You finished.

There was a short laugh, and then the line going dead as he hung up. You shoved your phone back into your pocket, and took your keys out of the jacket pocket. Unlocking your car, you slid into the drivers seat and pulled away. You headed back through Washington city, glad that for once the traffic wasn't acting up. You got there in a relatively short time, and soon you were transferred into another car as yours was taken to long term storage. You sat in the back seat of this car, being driven by one of the newer SHIELD recruits. Clint was waiting for you at the airport, passed out on one of the metal chairs beside the enterance. There were black rings around his eyes, and he was uncharacteristically pale for someone who spent as much time as he could in the sun.

Maria stood slightly infront of him, arms crossed and stern expression on her face. You approached her cautiously.

"He's asleep, so I'll ask you" She started, "Do you know what you have to do?"

"Yes"

"How you have to do it?"

"Yes"

"Do you have everything that you need? Everything I told you to get?"

"Yes"

"Do you know who to call if you get into trouble?"

"Yes"

"Do you know your cover?"

"Yes"

"What is it?"

"______ and Clint Baxter"

"Good. I've given Clint your new passports, and all forms of documentation and licenses are in his bag. Your security clearances will get you on this flight without bother anyway"

"I understand"

"______?" A voice interrupted groggily.

You glanced down to see Clint struggling into a more upright position, as he had obviously shrunk down the seat while he was asleep. All the bandages had been removed from his face, and he looked completely drained.

"Hey" You breathed, dropping down to crouch beside him. 

His muscular arm wrapped around your upper body, and he slowly pulled you into his warm body.

"Thank you" He mumbled as he lay his cheek on your shoulder, "For taking care of all those things for me"

"It's okay" You retorted, reaching up to ruffle his feathery hair, "You were learning how to provide for me. I'm so glad that you're so focused on becoming a real husband to me"

He laughed softly, and let you go.

"Come on" You stood and offered him your hand, "We don't want to miss our flight"

He groaned in protest, but took your hand.

"I've put you both up in first class" Maria informed you, "So it'll be easier for him to sleep on the plane"

You went to thank her, but Clint cut in before you could.

"Your present nice-ness is unnerving. Usually you seem to get kind of a kick out of watching me suffer"

You elbowed your partner sharply in the side, causing him to yelp with protest. Maria, however, ignored him.

"One final thing" She smirked, reaching into her pocket and pulling something small out.

She motioned for your hand, and you held it out. You expected her to place the item onto your palm, but instead she took hold of your outstretched limb and turned your hand over. Slipping a glittering diamond ring onto the ring finger of your left hand, she chuckled and said;

"Congratulations, Mrs Baxter"

She turned to catch Clint's eye, before reaching for his hand and placing his own ring upon his finger.

Staring back and forth both with something akin to amusement, she straightened up. You sensed something was brewing in her mind, and watched curiously as she turned her head to Clint, motioned with her left hand to you, and dead-panned:

"You may now kiss the bride"

Then she spun sharply on her heel, and strode away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all are well? :)


	4. "How's the happy couple?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long absence and I apologise. Redoing my exams in order to get into the course I want (high points so it takes a lot of study). I feel horrible though. I am so sorry for not updating you sooner. I'll try update as often as I can but until summer I have a feeling it's going to be sparse. I will get to all of your comments as soon as I possibly can and reply to them, but tonight I'm just focusing on writing as much as I can :) (which will probably only be this chapter and a bit of the other ones in my other stories)
> 
> Any grammar mistakes will be edited over in the morning. I'm unusually tired tonight, even though it's ONLY just approaching midnight!

"We're flying first class, up in the sky..." He warbled, poking you in the side.

You let out a small, brief laugh. "I see you're feeling better."

You put down the magazine that you had been reading and smiled over at him. He was watching you from the corner of his eye as he tore into a packet of biscuits provided by the airline. He still had dark circles running underneath his eyes, but he looked a little less pale. You were sure he would need a bit more sleep after you got to your new house, he had a few day's worth of rest to catch up on.

"Mostly," he agreed. "Though my eyes still feel like sandpaper."

"You do look like shit," you agreed teasingly.

He placed his hand over his heart and mock-winced. "Ouch. Such hurt."

Shaking your head a little, you folded the magazine closed on your lap and went to stuff it into the pouch on the back of the seat infront of you. His hand stopped you, and before you could do anything about it, he neatly plucked it from your grasp and turned the cover over. You watched as he arched his eyebrows in amusement, the corners of his mouth twisting up.

"Since when do you care about Kimye?" He scoffed, pointing to the magazine cover.

"Kimye," you repeated. "How do you know that's their couple name? _I_ didn't even know that and I've spent the last few days immersed in Kardashian-lore in order to be able to have something to talk about with Crystal Meyers."

"Everybody knows about Kimye," he said a little defensively.

You sniggered but tried to hide it behind your hand. It didn't work, as he noticed. However, he just rolled his eyes, and finished your task of shoving the magazine into the pocket infront of you.

"So, how's your flight been?"

You allowed the change of subject, and stretched a little, hiding your mouth behind your hand so that you could yawn widely.

"It's been good. They gave me free champagne. Your snoring was amusing."

"I do not snore!" Clint protested.

"Suuuuuuure, you don't. Nah, the flight was fine. We should be landing soon enough though."

Almost as if your words had triggered it, the pilot's voice spoke over the plane's intercom. The announcement said that all seatbelts must now be fastened, all trays must be out up against the backs of the seats infront of you as you were approaching your destination. You followed the instructions, and then looked over if Clint was doing the same. As you had suspected, he wasn't. Yes, he had put his seatbelt on, but the tray was very much down.

"Clint," you reminded him. "Tray up."

"Just a second."

"Clint!"

"One second!"

A flight attendant chose this moment to walk by. You felt like putting your face into your hands. You knew what was going to happen next, as it had happened before. She paused when she saw Clint, and then back-tracked so that she grew level with you both. For a few seconds she just eyed Clint, obviously thinking that her presence looming over him would encourage him to do the right thing and follow the pilot's instructions. Unfortunately, the thing about Clint was that he only really (sometimes) took orders from SHIELD officials (and occasionally you when you were mad enough or PMS time).

"Sir," she started when it became obvious that Clint was avoiding eye contact with her in order to eat his food without interruption. "I'm sorry but the captain says that all trays have to be up."

Clint frowned. "Could you make an exception?" 

The woman looked a bit irritated, and you sympathised with her. "No. Though you are seated in first class you do not get permission to break the rules."

"That's not what I meant!" He protested. "I just haven't eaten in _ages!"_

"You had biscuits literally three minutes ago," you reminded him.

"They don't count."

"Yes, they do."

"Sir, could you put up your tray?"

"In a second, I need to finish my yoghurt."

"No, you need to do it now."

"Is this about the yoghurt? Do you want some?" Clint offered the spoon to her. "I'm okay with sharing. It's actually really good."

This continued on for a while; Clint arguing as he did every-time that a tray being down was not going to cause the plane to drop from the sky, and the hostess insisting that it was the rules. That was the thing with Clint, if he couldn't understand why he should have to do something, then he wouldn't do it. It was irritating to no end, but you kind of liked how he stood up for himself. It was hot, in an Alpha-Male type way. Even if he did seem like a spoilt three year old to everyone else.

 

* * *

 

"I can't understand why she wouldn't give me any more of that yoghurt to take with me," he complained as you strode through the airport, luggage in hand. "Like, I could see there was more of it. It was right there on the trolley!"

"Maybe if you had just put up your tray when you were told to..." You trailed off suggestively, shaking your head in exasperation. "For a smart guy, you can be so incredibly dumb at times."

"I simply like to think of it as I don't play by the rules," he shrugged, reaching into the crest pocket of his jacket and pulling out a pair of sunglasses.

He fitted them over his eyes as you walked out into the sunlight, and you felt a small shiver run down you as your body reacted to the sudden change of temperature. It was always so much colder in airports than it was outside, and this heat was delicious. You tilted your face upwards, allowing the golden rays to warm your face.

"I could get used to this," you murmured.

"Me too."

There was a smile in his voice, and a hint of something you didn't fully recognise. You lowered your head and looked at him. He seemed to be watching you, but you weren't fully sure if he was because you couldn't see his eyes properly behind the glasses. You squinted, curious to see what brand they were. You would have guessed that they were Ray Bans, but then again you couldn't be sure as you didn't exactly know a whole lot about sunglasses.

"So, Mrs Baxter," he interrupted your scrutiny. "Shall we go see a man about a car?"

"Yes, we should," you agreed. "Where did Hill say to meet him again?"

"She said he'd be on the second level of the parking lot," Clint recalled. "Which is... This way."

You followed him towards the large, concrete building, just chatting away. You talked about random things, the new house, the flight, how Clint did learning accountancy as you walked. Eventually, you reached a lift, and once you had both dragged your various trolleys and pieces of luggage inside it, you hit the button with the big "2" on it, and felt the elevator begin to rise. When it reached the second floor you both stepped out, and glanced around curiously. There was hundreds of cars littering the huge lot infront of you, stretched as far as the back wall ages away.

"Which parking space was it?"

"Uhmm..."

A flash of highlights interrupted the brief panic of 'oh-my-god-we're-gonna-have-to-call-Maria-to-ask-where-to-go-and-she'll-yell-at-us-for-forgetting,' and you looked towards the car in question. it was glossy, black and sleek. Definitely something a high-class accountant would buy. You were pretty sire it was meant for Clint, Maria Hill had informed you that your own car would be arriving within a few days of your getting here. 

"Nice car," you commented under your breath as you made your way over. 

You couldn't see the SHIELD agent inside just yet, and wondered if you'd know them.

"Mercedes Benz, S-Class," Clint said just as quietly. "She's a real beauty, meant to run like a dream."

"Enjoy her then," you elbowed him playfully.

As soon as you both reached the car, the driver's door opened and a pair of stiletto heels hit the ground. The outrageously gorgeous shoes were also followed by an outrageously gorgeous body and face as the person stepped out of the blockage of the door, and came into full view. Stunning red hair tumbled down her shoulders, and you found yourself wondering why the hell SHIELD hadn't sent her to befriend Crystal Meyers instead of you. I mean, she basically screamed perfection.

"Catch," Natasha Romanoff smiled, and threw the keys at a stunned Clint.

He barely managed to catch them, fumblingly grabbing them before they hit the ground. You couldn't blame him, you were pretty shocked at her appearance also.

"Hi guys," she grinned. "Sorry to show up uninvited. I just felt bad for missing the wedding, and someone had to be here to give you away."

This was followed by a wink of one of her green eyes, and you had a split second to fully appreciate the perfect line of her eyeliner.

"So," she continued. "How's the happy couple?"

"Good," you answered after clearing your throat.

When Clint didn't say anything, you turned to look at him. He was bright red, from his neck out to his ears. He was resembling a tomato and it would have been funny if you hadn't copped on that it was referenced to her calling you two married. 

_Was he... Ashamed of the idea?_

The thought stung, and before you could help it, you winced. It was only a small wince, but noticeable to Agent Romanoff. Her eyes narrowed in on you, and you felt your own gaze drop to the floor.

"Honeymoon phase over already?" She asked lightly, but there was more of an uncertainty in her tone this time.

You scuffed your shoes on the ground. When you eventually gathered the courage to look up, you saw her shooting an exasperated look at Clint, and him pulling an expression in return. It seemed like they were having one of those silent conversations that only people who were extremely close to one another could pull off. That idea made you feel jealous, which wasn't very nice adding to the rapidly growing ball of insecurity nestled in your chest.

"Why did Hill send you to pick up the car?" Clint finally asked aloud.

Natasha shrugged. "Like I said, I wanted to see the newly-weds. Tease you both a bit. Steve wanted to come too, but he couldn't make it at the last minute. I'll have to tell him how cute you guys look, puppy love suits you both."

"Oh my God," you found yourself both blushing and laughing a little at her.

"You have no shame," Clint berated. "Now get out of here."

"As you insist. I'm not one to stand in the way of true love and destiny," she sing-songed as she sashayed out of the way, stopping only to give you a friendly pat on the shoulder.

You smiled at her, and she gave you another conspiratory wink.

"Look after him, yeah?" Natasha asked.

"Of course?" You answered, wondering why she asked that.

It seemed like she was now passing him into your care, or something. Which was dumb as you'd been partners with him for the last few months.

She smiled again, and then walked past you. After a few seconds you found yourself turning to watch her go, but by the time you'd twisted around she seemed to have already vanished. You whirled around, looking in all directions to try find out where she could have possibly gone. She was nowhere to be seen, at all.

"_____! Give me a hand with the luggage?" Clint called from the boot of the car.

You gave up looking for Natasha, and dragged your bag around to him.

"She just disappeared?" You told him in confusing. "How did she do that?"

"I don't actually know," he shrugged. "She's always been good at vanishing."

You digested this information as you helped him load the bags into the car. When you were done, you rubbed your hands together as he slammed the boot shut. A few seconds later you both slid into the cool interior of the Merc, Clint in the driver's seat, and you in the passenger seat. The leather of the seats was smooth against your skin, and you inhaled that new-car smell.

"Are you sure you want to drive?" you asked him in concern. "You still look pretty tired. I could drive and you could sleep of you want?"

He smirked at you. "Nah, I wanna drive the car."

"Suit yourself," you shrugged, using the lever to push the back of the seat down a bit more so you could stretch out.

You closed your eyes and just listened to the sound of keys clinking together as Clint went to turn on the engine. You waited patiently as he slotted them in, and then sat back to adjust his seat position also.

"There's an envelope on the backseat," Clint noticed as he glanced in the rear-view mirror.

You twisted around to pick it up. Opening it, you pulled out a few sheets of paper, and quickly scanned them with your eyes. 

"It's about your job interview," you told him. "The time, a copy of the email CV that 'you' sent to the Meyer's human-resource manager, directions and a Google Maps picture of the building. Nothing that could be incriminating for us, so we don't have to dispose of it. It looks like something you would normally print out to attend a job interview."

"Alright," Clint nodded as he started the engine.

You felt the car hum underneath you as he steered it out of the parking space. "So, when's this interview?"

"On Thursday," you informed him. "Which means that we have a few days to get settle in first, unpack some boxes."

"Those movers will be here tomorrow, right?"

"Indeed so."

"Did you get time to review what items Hill ordered for us?" 

You frowned. "No, actually. Though as long as I have furniture I think I'll be okay."

"Dammit," Clint sighed. "I asked her to get me a pool table. I don't think she will have done."

"No," you chuckled. "I don't think she'll have gotten you a pool table either."

Clint frowned, bathing in his disappointment for a moment. Then, he brightened slightly.

"Hey! At least we'll have a pool!"

"That we will," you reflected his enthusiasm.

You really did like water, and having a large pool in your back garden was indeed something to be happy about.

"I think I'll go swimming in it every morning before breakfast," you told him.

"That does sound nice!" Clint agreed. "Though I definitely want to go for a midnight swim sometime."

"Those are always the best," you nodded in agreement.

 "I've never actually been on one before," Clint confessed, looking at you.

"Really?" 

You found yourself a bit surprised by that, for some reason. You didn't know why, it wasn't like it was a huge thing not to have done. But you couldn't exactly see why some girl lucky enough not to be as deep in the friendzone as you were hadn't dragged him off into a pool for a romantic swim after dark just yet.

"Never really had the time," he shrugged. "You know how I lived as a kid... And with all the missions and stuff after I joined SHIELD, I was almost most active at night. I just never got the opportunity. I think it sounds nice, though, peaceful. I think I would like the quiet, it would be a nice break."

He said it so wistfully, you found yourself hurting for him. You knew what was on his mind, what was always on his mind. The guilt he bore from what Loki had made him do was something that he could never seem to fully shake. You thought he was hoping that this midnight swim, this simple thing renowned for being so peaceful, would offer him the same peace of mind that it did for other people. Slowly, you reached across the armrest of the car and took his hand. Squeezing your fingers around his, you settled back onto your seat and looked at him just in time to see his eyes (which were now visible as his sunglasses had been raised) flicker towards your hand on his.

"Something wrong?" you asked nervously, wondering if you had overstepped some kind of boundary. 

"No," he smiled, returning his eyes to the road. "It's just odd to feel a wedding ring on you."

You blushed a little, and cast your gaze out the passenger window.

"Is the thought that a guy would marry me odd to you?" you teased. "Am I so unlovable?"

"Not what I meant," he protested with a light chuckle. "Don't take it like that."

"I'm only messing," you informed him. "I have slightly thicker skin than that."

"I know you do, kiddo," he responded affectionately. "You have a better sense of humour than any girl I've ever met."

The compliment warmed you. He liked your personality best? Better than any of the other SHIELD newbies who slightly pulled down the zippers on the front of their jumpsuits when they saw him coming in the corridors? Better than Natasha's? It meant a lot to you, and you knew it shouldn't. You were his partner and his friend. Your feelings for him just complicated everything. They risked screwing all this up, and you knew that you needed to get it in check.

And now you were married to him for the foreseeable future. You knew it was going to wreck havoc on your emotions.

You'd have to hold his hand.

Call him 'darling,' or some other lovey-dovey term.

You'd have to kiss him in public.

And sleep in the same bed.

_Well fuck..._

 

_* * *_

 

"We're here," his voice interrupted you from staring at your phonescreen. 

You looked out the direction he was staring at, at the large house with the "For Sale" sign sticking out of the ground in it's front garden. It was clean looking, with large windows and a well-maintained lawn. It was the kind of place you could see an accountant and his wife living, not you though. You had always imagined your future house to be clean and large like this one was, but not as immaculate looking at this. It looked like something from a catalogue. You had always imagined your place to be more cosy and homey. Maybe a few patches of dirt and holes in the grass from a rampaging dog or two, toys littering the lawn from the kids you would have with your loving husband. And inside there would be a cracked coffee pot, and some mugs with horrendous jokey slogans.

You stopped that train of thought before it could go any further, physically shaking your head to shoo the ideas away from your mind.

"You don't like it?" Clint asked.

"I do," you said. "it just doesn't seem very... Me."

His hand landed comfortingly on your shoulder.

"I know how you feel," he nodded, and you immediately understood that he felt the same way you did about the perfection of the house. "But at least it's not... _That_."

You followed his gaze to the house directly opposite, on the other side of the street.

"The Meyers."

Sure, you had seen it before in photographs and surveillance footage, but it was different to seeing how big it was in person. It was huge and modern looking. It was then that you realised how incredibly wealthy the Meyers must be, and how wealthy you were pretending to be by owning a house on this neighbourhood. It was rather daunting to a girl who had been living in a one bed apartment with a broken lift less than a year ago, before the promotion and partnership to Clint.

"They really do live well," Clint nodded. "Black market money must make a nice income."

"Well they don't pay taxes on that," you chuckled. "No doubt it is a decent boost in their cash supply."

You both stared at the house for a few more minutes, before he nudged you.

"Come on, it'll look odd if we stare for much longer," he reminded you, before turning into the vast paved driveway of your new home and cutting the engine. 

You both stepped out, you rifling in your new Michael Kors purse in order to find the house keys, while Clint came around beside you. There was a sudden pressure as he slipped his hand into yours, and you looked at him curiously, hoping he didn't notice the increase of your heartbeat.

"For appearance's sake," he told you, and you swallowed your disappointment.

You got to the door, and you raised your free hand to insert the key into the lock. It slid into the door easily, and you twisted it to the right. There was a resounding 'click' as the lock turned, and you withdrew the key and pulled down on the hand, allowing the door to swing inwards. The cool marble foyer greeted you, a twisted, metal railed staircase at one side twisting around the entrance room's circular walls until it reached the upstairs level. Through the foyer you could down a corridor, with various doors off to either side, and at the very end of said corridor you could see glass doors leading into what you thought to be a bright kitchen.

You went to step inside, to marvel some more at the cold, beautiful surroundings, when suddenly Clint's strong arms wrapped around you and you were yanked off your feet. You yelped in shock, and began to struggle as you really, really, _really_ hated being picked up. Clint's grip, never faltered, however, and he looked down at you with a cheeky grin upon his handsome face.

"Don't I get to carry my wife over the threshold?"

For some reason, his words made your heart ache painfully.

"No," you said in a small voice. "Not for appearance's sake."

A frown crossed his face as his head tilted down so he could gaze into your eyes.

"Then how about because I want to?" Clint asked softly, and there was an air of vulnerability to his tone.

You paused for a second, mulling it over, before giving a small shrug as a slightly teasing expression stole across your face.

"I guess it's acceptable then. Whatever to make you happy, my dearest husband."

He beamed down at you, his confidence renewed once more. You looked shyly back, wondering why it made him so happy, but glad that it did. You were glad that you were able to make him smile so much. Without warning, Clint pressed an affectionate kiss onto your forehead. You froze a little, and hoped that the heat you were feeling as a result of that wasn't visible as a tomato-red blush upon your face.

But knowing your luck, it probably was.

However, if it was, Clint didn't seem to notice. His eyes were no longer focused on you, instead gazing into the interior of the house infront of him. Your new house, with him. It was both an exciting and daunting prospect. You felt yourself being gently moved as he shifted you in his arms, clutching you bridal-style to his chest. He held you gently, but firmly, and you were reminded of that mission a few months ago, where you had been injured and he had carried you away from the enemy, running eight miles in the blistering heat but never faulting until you were both safe from harm. He had been holding you like this that time, also.

You allowed yourself to relax in his arms, feeling safe and protected all over again. You raised your face to look up at him.

His blue-green eyes were clear, his lined, tanned face set proudly as he stared into the house, and you knew he was contemplating the task ahead, weighing the dangers and already planning how to survive. And how to keep you safe, also. For all his affection towards you, he was going into Hawkeye-mode now, preparing himself for the months yet to come. 

 He took a deep breath, as if to prepare himself for some intimidating task, he raised his left foot and stepped into the house. 

Taking you with him.

 

* * *

 

You weren't aware of it then, neither of you were. Not aware of how the next few months would affect you, how they would change you and affect the relationship you shared with one another. Though deep down, both of you knew that after this nothing would be the same again.

This mission would be the reason that a few months down the line, when SHIELD was going down back in Washington, that Clint didn't pick up the phone when Natasha and Steve called for help.

It would be the reason that he listened to their desperate voicemails, but didn't go to them when they needed him. 

It would be the reason that you would wake up screaming even when it was all over. 

It would be the reason that your partnership with Clint Barton would come to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously no one has to imagine it like this because the whole point of these reader-insert stories are to picture them your own way, but if anyone is curious to what I imagined the foyer to look like it's kind of like this: http://i.istockimg.com/file_thumbview_approve/12898455/2/stock-photo-12898455-grand-foyer-staircase-chandelier-marble-floor-showcase-home-interior-design.jpg  
> but not exactly identical. 
> 
> And I know the ending to this chapter seems ominous, but with writing nothing is exactly as it seems. So stick around, yeah? 
> 
> Thank you for reading, sorry about the wait, and thanks for all the kudos and comments :)


	5. "I want a divorce."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing that belongs to Marvel, I just own this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehm... Hi... I'm back. I really have no idea how often I will be back. It's my final year in uni so I have a lot of stuff to get done. Considering I started these before I started uni has me wondering where the time gone. It's... Crazy. I kind of lost motivation for a while, personal reasons, you know. It was nothing drastic, but things I don't really want to go into. I'm trying though, so bare with me. And I'm really sorry, I know it sucks to like an unfinished fic that hasn't been updated. It sucks, I really am sorry. Before I get asked, I honestly don't know when I'll be back to my other fics. I wasn't even intending to update this, I just looked it up because I couldn't even remember what I had written and read it myself and had the urge to write more. My grammar was not up to standard in previous chapters so if I'm doing this again I'll probably be editing that first, and with six assignments due before Halloween I'm not sure how much free time I have.
> 
> To those who are new, hello and welcome, to those who have come back, I am so sorry, thank you so much for your support and love for the fic. And welcome back.

After a few seconds, Clint gently lowered you to your feet. You untangled your arm from where it had been hooked around his neck, and turned to face him once more. You gave him an affectionate grin, which he returned almost shyly. 

"Well, wife, what do you think?" he asked you quietly. 

"Of the house?"

"No, of my strong muscles," he snorted.

"Steve's looked bigger," you said teasingly, turning and sashaying away from him.

A quick glance over your shoulder told you he was standing there, mouth open. His eyes were wide. He looked shocked and kind of offended. That wasn't your intention, you were only joking. You told him so and he nodded, though the happy glint was gone from his eyes. You felt kind of bad now. You hadn't meant to actually hurt his feelings. You had been joking around and getting on, and there you went, ruining it all.

"Clint?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Your muscles are natural."

"That's a very strange thing to say, ______." However, he was laughing now, so you knew that he had understood what you meant and had appreciated it. "Wanna go look around the rest of the house?"

You gave him a shy nod, and he offered his arm to you. You linked yours through it and walked through the foyer into the kitchen. It was bright and airy, with white walls, large windows and marble counter-tops. There was a row of metal island tables for food preparation, and an oven built into the brick wall at the back of the kitchen. It was the kind of kitchen Gordon Ramsay or some master chef would own, not the kitchen of a girl who could make decent spaghetti and a guy who just ordered take-away the whole time. 

"You know, this house has me feeling really inadequate," you admitted with a laugh. 

"It's like Thor's hammer, decreeing you aren't worthy," Clint joked back. 

"What's he like? Thor?" You asked. You'd never met the God of Thunder. 

Clint stopped and pondered for a second, before saying; "his muscles are natural." You snorted and elbowed him as he laughed, fending you off. "Is there any food in the fridge?" he wondered, moving towards it. 

"There better not be yogurt," you chuckled. "I've had enough of you and yogurt today."

"If there is I'm eating it. You can't stop me. You'll have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands," Clint retorted as he yanked open the fridge. 

You were greeted with the sight of shelves full of absolutely nothing. It was empty. This didn't come as a surprise to you, but Clint looked crestfallen and closed the door sadly. The sight of the empty fridge just prompted you to remember all the things that you had to do to get this house running.

"We're gonna have to do a grocery run soon," you sighed. "We need something for dinner."

"We could just order pizza?" His voice was hopeful.

"We had pizza a few days ago!"

"You're literally already becoming a nagging wife. I thought it would at least take two days. If this is what it's like to be married I'm never getting married."

You rolled your eyes at that, not actually offended but just enjoying the banter. "If I'm honest, I don't really feel like cooking either. How about Chinese take-out, we'd be switching things up a bit."

Clint nodded at you, happy to be getting take-away full stop. "We are so wild."

You really had no idea how someone who ate as much junk food as he did had a body like his. They may say he had no actual superpowers but his metabolism was most definitely something. "Don't you know it. Let's wait another few hours though, we should look around more, unpack a bit, and then have food."

"That sounds good to me," he gave you a beaming smile and your heart gave a little lurch in your chest. 

_God, by the end of this your chest is gonna be permanently scarred with all the flips your heart has done over the course of the mission._

Leaving the kitchen, you returned into the foyer and looked into one of the doors off to the side. It was a living room, sparsely furnished, but once again bright and airy. It had a big, stone fireplace which would be perfect for the winter. 

"We are definitely putting a fur rug in-front of that fireplace," Clint said excitedly.

"Why a fur rug?" you laughed. 

"In movies they always put fur rugs in-front of huge fireplaces. It looks cool. I want to do it. I've always said to myself if I had a big fireplace I'd put a fur rug in-front of it."

"Okay, if that's what you want..."

The grin he gave you almost cracked his face in half. You couldn't help but shake your head and laugh. He could be such a kid at times, but how unpredictable he could be really made him exciting to be around. He definitely was not like anyone you had ever met before in your life. Even if it wasn't romantically, you hoped he'd be in your life for a long while. Clint Barton made you enjoy things like no-one else did. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.

"You're just, so... you," you smiled.

"Is that a good thing?" his voice was a bit quieter now, rougher sounding. He was making some strong eye contact which had you heating up from the inside. 

_Jesus Christ, you were like a permanent shade of red around this guy._

"I wouldn't want you any other way," you said quietly, hoping he wouldn't hear the quiet longing in your voice. 

_You were so pathetic, oh my God._

His breathing, which you were suddenly aware that you could hear, hitched slightly. He took a step closer and chills ran down your body. He gave you a smirk and started to say something when the phone rang. You both jumped like you'd been shocked, and Clint retreated back a few paces. His hand jumped to his hair, rustling through it as he looked at you guiltily. Then he broke your gaze, and fumbled in his pocket to get to his phone. The button beeped as he answered the call and held the device to his ear, no long looking at you. 

"It's Bar-I mean, Baxter."

You let out a breath you didn't realise you had been holding, and tried to relax your body. All your muscles had been tensed. 

You needed to snap out of it, you weren't some love-struck fan-girl. This was your partner. Did you want to stay partners with him? Yes? Then don't make it uncomfortable for either of you!

"Uh-huh," you heard Clint say. "Yup. Will do. Yes. Thanks for calling. The move has been good so far. Alright. Bye."

He hung up the phone. You were about the ask if it was Hill, but he put a finger to his mouth and shushed you. He pressed a few buttons on his phone and held it out in-front of him, it's screen facing upwards. A little holographic wave rose out of the screen as it checked the room for bugs. You watched and after a few seconds it gave a cheery beep, signifying that this particular room was safe. 

"All good," Clint said. "You have one on your phone too. We need to go through the rooms and check them. The automatic detectors come with our furniture tomorrow but today we have to do this by hand. Wanna split up or stay together?"

You wanted to stay together. You really did, but you knew you couldn't. You'd get through the house far faster if you split up. 

"You finish this floor," you said. "I'll take upstairs."

He nodded and gave you a grin. "This is gonna be fun. It's a really nice house."

You only nodded in response and left the room. Fishing your phone out of your pocket you set off upstairs, opening the radio app on your phone (which the bug detection app had been disguised as). The steps were solid under your feet as you trudged up the stairs, and you looked back to see that above the front door was a circular stained glass window. It cast a beautiful reflection on the wall by the steps in-front of you and you found yourself smiling. You drank it in for a second, before continuing up to the landing. You scanned the landing, the hallway, and the study first. There was nothing. The study had a window in the roof and cream coloured walls, which the desk ran all the way along. It had wood paneling and was very spacious. You could see Clint definitely liking this room. Looking at the bare walls, you resolved to get him a painting of some kind. Something to add some colour to the room, and so he'd have something to look at when working. Maybe he could even fit a treadmill and a weights bench in the corner so he'd have space to blow off steam.

From there you went back into the hallway and continued down. The house had three bedrooms and three bathrooms, one bathroom down on the ground floor, one main one upstairs and the ensuite in the master bedroom. The two smaller bedrooms were even bigger than your own master bedroom in your current apartment back in Washington, and the master bedroom was huge. It's windows overlooked quiet street outside. There was a door opposite the foot of the bed and you walked over to inspect that too. It was a huge walk in closet, plenty of space for both you and Clint's clothes. It was enormous. You resolved that you were going to get a little circular seat to put into the middle of the room. From there, you went back into the bedroom and over to the ensuite bathroom. The bathroom was coloured a mix of black and dark grey with white appliances. An enclosed shower took up half of the room and it had two separate sinks. 

Jesus, this place was something else.

Clint came up as you were finishing scanning the master bedroom. He whistled in admiration when he saw the room. "All done?"

"All done," you confirmed. "All good?"

"All good," he nodded.

"Here too, we're in the clear," you told him.

"I might take a look around here really quick," Clint informed you, glancing around. 

"Okay, I'll go get the things from the car." You turned to leave but his hand shot out and grabbed your arm.

"Not going to give me the grand tour?"

"Do I look like an estate agent to you?"

He snorted. "So feisty. You're meant to be nice to me, I'm your husband after all."

"I want a divorce."

He burst out laughing and so did you.

"I really don't own that much, and you want to take half of it?" he snorted. "Enjoy your broken coffee cups, you really picked a winner, congratulations on your gold-digging spoils."

"Hey! When did we decide I'm the gold digger?!" you tried to pretend to be indignant but your amusement shone through.

"You're like ten years younger than me. You're definitely the gold-digger," he teased. 

"So that means you're a sugar daddy?"

"I am surprisingly okay with that description."

You rolled your eyes. "You know that the term 'sugar daddy' has nothing to do with hotness, right? It's just the old dude who gives the girls money for sex."

"Wait, it doesn't?" he seemed a bit shocked.

"Um, no?"

"Wow..." he looked off into the distance. "Then I have been saying some _weird_ things to people."

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Apparently he'd made jokes about him being a sugar daddy. He thought it just meant he was a hot guy some younger girls got with, but did not understand the full connotations of the word. People did not take it well. When you had eventually stopped laughing at him he had already gotten all the bags from the car. The only sign of embarrassment from him as the slight red tinge to his ears. Spies were very good at keeping their emotions from showing to the world. He came back into the room with the final duffle-bag and upon seeing him again you started laughing hysterically once more. 

"You are finding this way too funny," he noted dryly, looking at you as you sat on the ground. 

"I'm sorry," you responded through chortles.

Finally, you completely calmed down and went to help him unpack. It was a few hours of loading clothes into the walk-in closet and depositing delicates and undergarments into your designated shelves in the chest of drawers. You stood back when it was all done, back sore from all the bending and reaching. Clint was done too, and collapsed on the bed, the only piece of furniture that was in the house at the moment. 

"Wanna order that Chinese?" he said.

You looked down at him flopped on the bed and smiled. "I've changed my mind, let's get pizza."

He gave you a fond look at you offered him your hand, helping him to his feet. It was beginning to get dark outside as you wandered down to the kitchen. With nowhere to actually sit, you hoisted yourself up and sat on the counter-top, legs dangling down the side as Clint leaned beside you. You were Googling nearby pizza joints on your phone, scrolling through the search results. 

"That one looks good," Clint commented, reaching out with his finger to tap the screen. 

"You wouldn't just go for Dominoes, no? Has to be somewhere obscure."

"You know me so well," he put a hand over his heart and fluttered his lashes. 

"Alright, pepperoni?"

The two of you argued toppings for a few minutes, before coming to an agreement. You phoned the order through while Clint patiently waited. You were still on the phone when the doorbell rang. Motioning to Clint to go and get it, you covered your free ear with your other hand and finished the giving the guy your address. Once it was all confirmed, you hopped off the counter and followed Clint out into the hallway. You could hear voices and laughter from the front door. Clint was blocking your view of the door, so you moved around him to see who was there. 

Crystal and Ethan Meyers stood on your front door. Ethan had his arm around her shoulder, the other one outstretched, holding a bottle of something. Crystal was holding a glass backing tray in both hands, the top of it covered by tin-foil. They looked at you and smiled widely.

"This is my wife, _____," Clint introduced you. "Sweetheart, this is Ethan and Crystal Meyers. They live in the house just across the street. It's so lovely of you guys to come over."

He put an arm behind your back and ushered you forward. As soon as you saw them, your friendly mask had dropped over your features and you flashed them a bright smile. 

"Yes, it's so kind of you guys!" you exclaimed. "Would you like to come in? We don't actually have any chairs, just so you know, all of our furniture arrives tomorrow."

"Oh, we can't actually stay," Crystal said. Her voice was and held the affected tone of someone who has been wealthy most of her life. "We just wanted to say 'welcome to the neighbour-hood' and bring you these." She handed you the baking tray while Ethan gave Clint the bottle. A quick look at the label told you it was champagne. 

"Thank you so much," you simpered. "We'll have to have you over for dinner some day after we're all set up."

"That would be delightful," Ethan nodded at you. "And you shall have to come to ours sometime. We just set up a little bar in the house so you shall have to come try that out."

"It's so lovely to have a couple our own age on the street!" Crystal exclaimed. "Everyone else here is older. I was so excited when I asked the estate agent who bought it."

"That's so nice to hear," Clint responded. "It seems like a lovely place to live here. Far enough out from the city but easy to get to it if you need to, nice quiet neighbourhood, friendly neighbours." He gave them his winning smile as he finished, causing Crystal to giggle. 

"______, I have to say. I love your jacket," she turned to you.

"Thank you so much! It's Armani."

She gave you an appreciative look. SHIELD had definitely been right to give you that wardrobe upgrade.

"We should be going," Ethan nudged her. He turned to look at you two again. He looked like Superman, you thought, if Superman was a guy who smuggled chemical weapons to HYDRA.

"Really quickly before you leave," Clint interjected. "Do either of you know where Happ street is in the town? I have an interview there in a few days for an accounting job."

Ethan cocked his head. "With Meyers shipping?"

"Yeah. Wait, isn't your surname...?" Clint looked surprised, like he had accidentally found it out.

"Yes," Ethan laughed. "That's my company. If it goes well we could be working together."

"That would be interesting," Clint chuckled. 

Ethan reached out to shake his hand again. "Good luck tomorrow, man. You seem like a decent guy, I hope it goes well."

"Thanks," Clint returned the handshake firmly. 

"______, feel free to call over for a chat anytime," Crystal told you with a smile. 

"Oh, I will!" you responded.

They headed away from the house and you waved them goodbye until they got to their own. After that you shut the door, leaning against the thick wood. 

"I think that went-" you started to say but Clint held up a hand to silence you. 

He got his phone out and proceeded to scan for bugs once more, looking at the champagne bottle closely. However, it beeped and read that there was nothing in the room. 

"Okay, we're clear," Clint said. "What were you saying?" 

"I think that went well," you repeated. "They seem... Nice." Your mouth twisted down into a frown as your gaze dropped to the floor.

Clint's hand touched your chin, raising your face to look at him. "I know," he said gently. "But if they are doing something wrong we need to put a stop to it. We need to find out who's making that formula and who is buying it and for what. Sentiment can't get in the way."

"It won't," you promised. "I know my job."

"Good," he pulled you into a hug. "Now, wanna go and pop this bottle of champagne. We can have a classy dinner of expensive champagne, cheap pizza, and whatever it is in that tray that smells so goddamn good."

You pulled back the tinfoil to inspect it. It was some kind of pie. 

"Apple pie?" you said hopefully. 

"Probably. Want to have it now or for dessert?"

"Fuck societal rules, let's have it now."

"I am so happy I married you."

"The ceremony was beautiful, huh?"

"Oh yes."

The two of you continued to joke as you went into the kitchen. Luckily, there were a few sets of cutlery in the drawers. You took out two forks and gave them a quick rinse under the tap, while Clint looked for plates. 

"Let's not bother with plates, we don't have anything to clean them with."

"Sounds good to me," he shrugged.

You both stood on opposite sides of the counter, the baking tray of pie in-front of you. It was still warm, freshly made. You handed Clint a fork and held yours out.

"Cheers," you said as he tapped his fork against yours. "To our new house."

"Cheers," he responded.

Both of you then began to tuck into the pie, eating directly out of the container. If only Crystal Meyers could see your manners now. The pie was delicious (and APPLE) and you ate with relish. Both of you were silent, too consumed with hunger to chat with one another. You both were around halfway through the pie when the doorbell rang again. 

"Pizza's here," Clint commented, but made no move to go for the door.

"Uh, man of the house," you teased and he rolled his eyes but got up to go get it. 

While he was gone you took both the forks and put them in the sink. You recovered the pie with the tin foil and popped it back in the fridge. If you filled up on pie you wouldn't be able to enjoy the pizza. You heard the sound of the front door close.

"Wanna eat in the living room?" Clint shouted.

"There's no couches or TV in there," you yelled back.

"There isn't anywhere, we can eat on the ground."

That didn't sound bad to you so you shrugged and headed for the living room as suggested. You grabbed the champagne on your way out. When you walked into the living room, Clint was already on the ground with the pizza box open in-front of him. He was lying on his side, one arm holding his head up while the other reached for a slice. He spotted the champagne bottle in your hand and nodded his approval. You sat at the other side of the pizza box, crossed legged on the ground. It was a bit cold and you were glad for your jacket. 

You really didn't know how Clint was able to fare it in just jeans and a t-shirt. He put down his slice of pizza and held his hand out for the champagne bottle. You passed it to him and he eased himself to his feet, went over and popped it open on the mantle-piece. Instead of taking the first swig he turned and offered it to you. 

You accepted it willingly, and took a long swig. It was most definitely good champagne. A bit spilled down your chin and you pulled the bottle away from your mouth, mopping your face with your jacket sleeve in embarrassment. Clint chuckled at you and you handed him the bottle back. He took a huge gulp of it, holding the bottle over his head. His shirt rode up with the motion and you could see rock-hard abs peek out from the space between the hem of his t-shirt and jeans.

He finished his gulp and sat back down on the ground, legs spread out. With a bit more small talk the two of you began to eat. By the end of it, you were full to the brim of food, and a little bit tipsy. You figured you would have been a lot more tipsy however if you had not had the food to counter-act it. Clint did not seem to be feeling fuzzy like you were, and watched you in amusement. It would probably take a lot more than half a bottle of champagne to get him feeling drunk. However, it was late and he'd been working non-stop for the past few days. The excitement wore off as tiredness kept in, and he decided it was time for you both to go to bed when you were continually yawning and he was almost falling asleep while lying on his side. 

"We'll have to do that again when we're a bit more awake," he told you as you both walked up on the stairs. "Maybe with a lit fire and sitting on that rug we're gonna buy."

"Or we could sit on chairs like normal people," you said, too tipsy and tired to notice his hand on the small of your back as he guided you up the steps. 

You reached the room and he passed you your overnight back-pack. He knew which one it was because it was the one you always used for over-night trips. You mumbled a thank you and went to change into the bathroom while he changed in the walk-in closet. You brushed your teeth but couldn't be bothered hunting for a face wipe to take off your make-up. It wasn't like you even had much on. You went to the bathroom, and then headed back into your bed. Clint was already in the bed, the blanket halfway up his bare chest. 

_Wow._

Even in your tipsy and tired state you registered that. He noticed you coming into the room and his blue-green eyes snapped to you. He examined you as you stood frozen in the doorway and an awkward look crept across his face. 

"I can, um, put on a shirt if you want," he said awkwardly and this time there was a definite blush creeping across his face. 

"Um... It's okay. I.. I don't mind," you stuttered out. "I guess you just wanted to prove your muscles were natural. Point proven. Would you like a trophy?"

He lost some of his embarrassment at your bad joke. You regained your composure and managed to make it to the bed without stumbling, something you were pretty proud of. You had made the bed earlier as you unpacked, and you were glad you did it then instead of leaving it until now. You peeled back the covers and slid in beside Clint. You turned off the light switch above your head, plunging the room into darkness and then settled back into the bed. Despite his shirtless body emanating warmth, it was still pretty cold on your side. You shivered a little, which Clint noticed.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine, just a bit cold," you answered honestly.

"There was a moment of silence, before he piped up again. "Do you want me to, I mean I could?"

"No, no, I'll be fine. We are not consummating this marriage tonight."

"That's not what I meant-"

"I know, I was just teasing you."

You were glad he couldn't see your face in the darkness. You knew it was wearing some strange, slightly pained expression. It wasn't that you didn't want him close, or didn't want him cuddling you. You just wouldn't be able to handle it. It wasn't fair to you or your emotions. You needed to start being more professional in your feelings towards him. He could be your partner, and your friend, but no more than that. For the sake of your sanity and your career, he could not be more than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So before this fic goes any further I need to figure out where I planned on going with it. I had a notebook filled with chapter by chapter notes on what I planned to do, but of course I can't find that anywhere. So I need to think it all out again. Wish me luck!


	6. “Cold, isn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting short chapters because who knows when I'd have time to write decent length ones. You guys would be waiting a while. In the end it won't affect the overall length of the story, I'll just be posting content that may have been one long chapter that's split between two or three. So more smaller chapters.
> 
> Anyhow, it is late. I am tired. It's 1am and I gotta be up at 8:30am for work. Hope you guys are doing good!

You were warm when you woke up. It was a nice warm, pleasant and toasty. The way you woke up was nice too, not all at once but gradually. You yawned and stretched out, suddenly becoming aware that something was holding you in place. You looked down to find a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Your body tensed up, and slowly you turned your head to look over your shoulder. Clint was behind you, arms encircling you. His forehead was resting against your back. His face was serene and peaceful as he slept soundly. You felt a tender smile creep across your face. Then you realised that he was still shirtless, and that you shouldn't be doing this. You had said to yourself last night that you needed to get a lid on this little before it got out of control. As much as you wanted to stay in this bed wrapped up with Clint, you really couldn't.

You had never been as close to him before. His face was only an inch from your own. Your eyes flickered over his face and for the first time you noticed just how unbelievably long his lashes were. He was snoring pretty loudly, but it didn’t take away from how his face looked, all cute and scrunched up as he slept.

Once again, you debated just laying your head back down, snuggling in and enjoying the moment, but that wasn’t a good idea. You had sworn to yourself last night that you were going to get over this thing. Allowing him to cuddle you in a shared bed was not getting over it. And also it seemed a bit like taking advantage of him.

Carefully, you reached down and took his hand. Your movements were slow and precise as you grasped hold of it and gently lifted it up, being conscious of not moving too fast in-case you woke him up. You ducked underneath it, swinging your legs out so that you sat on the edge of the bed. You placed his arm back down on the bed, and despite yourself you held it for a moment, stroking your other hand over it.

You released a shuddering breath and looked away, eyes roving over the room before you steeled yourself enough to remove your hand from his. From there you took your slippers from where they rested on the ground and slipped them onto your feet. You stood up and tugged your pyjama shorts down from where they had rode up slightly during the night. Shuffling over to the door of the walk-in closet, you reached up and took your dressing gown down from where it had hung upon the door peg.

Wrapping it around yourself, you took one last look at Clint’s sleeping form, and then crept out the door and into the hall. A few floorboards creaked under you, and you winced, shooting a look back to see if he was still slumbering. He showed no sign of having moved, so you kept going. Quietly closing the door behind you, you blinked in the morning sun.

It was golden in its glow, and while looking at it you realised it was very early. You checked your wristwatch and saw it was just after 6:15am. Wow. Early. You didn’t usually tend to get up this early. Working with SHIELD and its anytime phone-calls you took all the sleep you could get. Heck, even before you worked for SHIELD you weren’t able to function efficiently before 10am. Maybe it was the nerves, but you knew even if you went into the spare room to try get some rest you wouldn’t be able to sleep.

It was way too early to go for groceries, the shops probably wouldn’t be open and you didn’t feel like going back into the room and getting dressed even if they were. You descended the stairs and went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Leaning against the counter, you sipped the fresh, cool liquid. You should have brought your phone down with you to give you something to do.

You hadn’t actually been out into the back garden yet, so you decided to go explore that. You retreated into the hallway to turn off the house alarm, and then trekked back into the kitchen and unlocked the back door. You pushed it open, and stepped out into the morning air. It was a bit chilly, but still warm enough. You didn’t bother to close it behind you as you walked out onto the stone tiles, glancing around.

The stone tiles lead out to a decently sized swimming-pool, which had a few lounge chairs stacked around it. The back yard also had a good sized grassy area.

_Lucky would have liked it._

That thought made you kind of wistful. You would have liked to bring him. He’d be good company when Clint wasn’t around. You would feel… Safer if he was there. Maybe you could see if they’d let you bring him?

You walked over to the pool and sat down on the edge, trailing your feet into the water. It was quite cold. You’d have to see if it had some kind of heater. It wouldn’t be too much fun to swim in a freezing pool. you sat like that for a while, listening to the birds singing and enjoying some peace and quiet. It wasn't often in your line of work that you got that. You swirled your toes in the water, watching it create mini patterns and tiny currents. The leaves moved as the wind blew through them.

You were so wrapped upon your own thoughts that you didn’t see hear the back-door creak slightly as it was pushed open further. You didn’t hear the whisper of footsteps across the stones. You didn’t hear the rustle of fabric as a pair of hands reached out to grab you.

Hands landed on your shoulders and you jumped in shock, fingers splaying out as you dropped your glass of water into the pool. Your head spun around to see Clint’s smiling face behind you, a split second before he shoved you forward and into the freezing water.

You went under, your dressing gown floating up around you. The shock of the freezing cold was imminent. Your feet found the ground under you and you pushed yourself to the surface. Coughing and spluttering, you wiped the mess of hair from out of your face and raised your gaze to glare at the laughing man standing above you.

Clint was nearly doubled over, hands on his sides as he laughed. If you were less annoyed you would have thought that he looked good, that the laughter suited him. But you were annoyed, and slightly out of breath from accidentally inhaling water, so you just continued to seethe and cough a bit.

Seeing the look on your face, his laughter began to die down. He took in the slight tremble in your body, and a look of remorse flashed across his face. He moved closer to the pool’s edge and offered his hand.

“Awh, jeez, you look cold. Here, ______. I’m sorry. Let-let me help you out.”

You moved forward, wrapping your arms around your body. You neared the edge and Clint leaned out further, straining to reach you. You leaned out to grasp his hand, holding it tightly. However, before he could pull back you jumped, you shot him an evil grin. His face twisted in confusion at the sudden change in your demeanour. You moved before he had time to process it, kicking your legs up against the pool’s wall and pushing yourself backwards. You yanked with all your strength and pulled Clint into the pool with you.

The total shock on his face was worth all the tremours from the cold that were rushing through your body. He hit the water face first and went under, you pushing his body down as he did. However, you weren’t strong enough to keep him down for long. He threw you off him and shot to the surface a second later, yelling in shock. He rounded on you, to find you laughing as hard as he was a few moments earlier.

“Cold, isn’t it?” you chuckled, smirking at him.

“Yeah… Man, it seriously is,” he wrapped his arms around his body like you had.

You looked at him and realised that he had put on a t-shirt and a pair of loose slippers, which were now floating around him in the pool.

“You look a bit wet,” you commented.

“So do you,” His mouth twisted into a sly smile. He moved towards you, and even though the water hindered his movements you could have sworn that there was a bit of swagger in his step. The wet t-shirt clung to his abs and you had to swallow and look away. You felt him move closer, and a flare of heat ran through you as you felt his hot breath against your face. You knew he was smiling at you, in one of his playful moods.

You took a step back. “We should get going,” you said awkwardly. “It’s really cold out here.”

His chest deflated and he sighed, his hand rising to run through his brown hair.

“Yeah,” he said with a laugh after a few moments. “Don’t wanna catch a cold before the big job interview.”

You smiled at him, and turned to wade your way towards the steps. When you reached them you bundled up your dressing gown into your hands and began to stride out of the pool. Clint followed after you, and you twisted quickly, and shoved him backwards. His arms flailed as he went flying backwards into the water once again. When he came up, scowling at you, you just giggled.

“Dibs the shower in our room,” you chortled, and shed your soaked dressing gown on the tiles as you ran for the door.

Clint started after you, but he wasn’t quick enough. You slowed a bit as you reached the house, not wanting to slip indoors upon the tiles. You walked hurriedly across the kitchen and ran up the stairs to your room.

“I need a change of clothes!” Clint yelled from the bottom of the stairs as he made his way up.

“You can get them afterwards,” you shouted back as you pulled your t-shirt over your head and discarded it on the floor. “Just go take a shower in the main bathroom.”

You walked into the ensuite room and over to the shower, and reached in to turn it on. It was cold at first but quickly heated up. You took off your shorts as well, there was no laundry basket so you put them in the sink. You’d move them when you got out.

The glass around the shower was misting over at a rapid rate, and you figured it was time to get in. Goosebumps were standing out on your skin, and you were beginning to really feel the chill. The water was almost unbearably warm at first, but you grew accustom to it. There was no shampoo or conditioner or anything, so you’d have to wash your hair again later. You showered for around ten minutes until you felt better, and then stepped out. You grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped it around yourself.

You hadn’t brought a change of clothes with you so you braced yourself for stepping into your cold room to retrieve them.  You opened the door and went through. Clint was already in there, white towel wrapped around his waist. The snowy colour stood out against his tanned skin. You stopped when you saw him, hand instinctively going to grip the towel tighter around yourself.

“Hey,” he straightened up. “I was just grabbing some clothes.”

“Me too,” you inclined your head towards the walk-in closet. “I’ll grab my stuff and go back to change in the bathroom.”

Clint nodded and walked over to the door to the walk-in closet. You followed. He reached out to grasp the handle and opened it for you, motioning you in ahead of him. This had a small smile creep across your face despite yourself. You thanked him and walked in past him, averting your gaze. You grabbed some stuff from the shelf. A sleek black sweater, a pair of blue jeans and purple socks. Comfortable and nice, but not too showy. Clint was taking grabbing some things as you left to go change in the ensuite.

Allowing yourself one last look behind you, you saw Clint reach to get his jeans from a higher shelf. Back muscles rippled with the movement as you could see veins standing out on his arms. Swallowing heavily, you slammed the door shut with a bit too much force. As it was closed you didn’t see Clint whirl around with a look of bewilderment on his face. You leaned against the other side of it, and released a long, slow breath.

_Yeah, this ‘getting over it’ thing was gonna be much harder than you had thought._

 


End file.
